#brought to my knees and shaking like a blade of grass on a slightly strong gust of wind i love em so much bro

[leonw4nter]

There is a certain beauty that comes with remembering, Leon finds. In the centuries that he had forgotten all about you, his heart had somehow remembered, adorning you in the lion's mane until he forgot it was his first, singing hymns he knew you cherished from the time he had spent with you, leaving you peaches because you had always shared the best harvest of them with him, sneaking in that you adored the taste of the nectar on your tongue. His mind had forgotten, but his heart had not, burying you into the depths of his consciousness until he would remember you again one day.

yk what this calls for? listening to 'goddess' by laufey :3 like i had my liked songs on shuffle and i just had to read this with that blasting in my earphones 🥹 actually, reread it coz i just *had* to experience this blessing from heaven typa fic

How do I act normal again now that I've added another fic in my mental list of the most heart-fondling fics. This dynamic just sweet-talked its way into calling my heart into its home and this fic made sure that my newfound fondness for this trope stays housed in here --> 💗. THE WAY CRESSIE WROTE IT?!?! I was reaching into my screen and holding the characters in my arms bro. I don't know what to do with my life now that I'm looking forward to more fics with Leon in this dynamic AGRHAGRHG I'm gonna go lie down and daydream about deity!reader and Leon now... maybe fall asleep and dream of them too. <3 . Someone read this fic, PLEASE, we need to be one in falling in love with Cressie's writing like LETS TALK ABOUT ITTTTT.

I should be sleeping but NO. I JUST HAD TO SAY THIS, I CAN'T KEEP QUIET ABOUT THIS.

gentle are the hands that hold you

word count: 6.1k || banner art by @chesue00

summary: the mind may forget, but the soul will not

Leon has a set routine that he has grown used to. He wakes up, and he prepares fruit from the garden for the small temple his family has passed down to him, four peaches placed at the altar before he goes back to prepare his own breakfast. When he cooks, the sun early in the sky, and the morning dew is still present. He's certain that the sound of animals is the sound of the peaches getting eaten, and when he cleans up his plate and looks for that of the temple, the fruits are gone, including the pits, and the herbs around the altar have returned to their natural health.

He cuts three of them — one of each color.

His family has passed down the art of worshipping a forgotten deity— one whose marble statue has chipped and grown covered in vines. The marble carvings of the title of the deity only retain the words "health" and "herb", and the herbs that can be used for illness grow around the altar and are seldom cut. Leon learned it from a long time ago as a child, and he never stopped. Some might consider the routine to be a nuisance, but Leon enjoys the routine, singing hymns in the temple at noon, brushing out the lion's mane on the god's head after his singing, tending and snipping the herbs that grow beautifully around the marble, blue eyes stuck to the beauty of the forgotten god that only his family tended to, relishing in the statue's beauty.

How lonely they must be.

At sunset, he lights the four candles at the foot of the statue by the altar, lowering himself onto his knees, whispering a prayer passed down for centuries in his house, eyes closed and heart still as he chants. The words are to come from the heart, he recalls. So, he reads them

Typically, he finishes the prayer and the four candles go out on their own.

This time, however, he finishes and the candles stay lit.

He wonders if he should try again to pray, but as he opens his mouth to start again, two snakes slither from both sides, curling up the body of the statue as a comet passes in the sky, and Leon is startled to the ground. He falls backward, watching as a glow of gold erupts from the statue as the snakes turn into the same marble, and the altar cracks, tablet of the title in the front sliding down as a shadow is revealed.

The body.

A body.

Someone opens their eyes from the inside of the altar.

You open your eyes from the inside of the altar.

"Where... am I?"

Leon would recognize that face anywhere, and at that moment, all he can do is thank the skies above for what he is about to be graced with.

"Oh, sweet heavens of health." He whispers. "Do forgive this mere human for what he is about to do."

He takes a step closer, offering his hand to you, his veil sliding down his hair.

"Welcome to earth, dearest deity. This mere worshipper greets you."

You blink down at Leon slowly, tilting your head.

"The heavens greet you, kind mortal. Pray tell, what you wished to receive from a minor god of healing?"

"Nothing." He breathes.

God, if he could keep worshipping you for the rest of his life, then he would be fine.

"Nothing at all, dearest deity."

You blink at him slowly once more, looking around the temple as you stare at the herbs. Leon notices the otherwordly glow that seems to emit from your body, and the color never seems to leave your skin. You glow the same shade as your complexion, crown of yellow on your head as you observe your surroundings, staring at Leon.

Leon does not know what you think. He can not know. How could he? He was not more than a mere worshipper who was taught to care for you eternally. Eternally to be your servant, never to dream of meeting you. You, who seemed to appear out of nowhere and cry gold and green, skin naked to the eye and touch. Touching you is out of the question, yet he holds his hand out to you. You seem to lack a reaction, still taking in your surroundings as Leon breathes. Breathing heavily. Heavy is his chest as he stares at you — it feels like a violation to be able to see you so up close.

"If I may?" He offers.

You take his hand, and Leon's heart lunges into his throat at your touch.

"Thank you."

Your voice flutters along with the wind as he pulls you out of the altar, and you stare around at the opened scenery.

"My temple has deteriorated."

"Yes." Leon whispers. "It is only my family left, you see."

"The blood of the temple's knights." You mumble. "I am grateful that your blood has stayed. I do not know what I would do had you not."

Leon nods slowly. "Do you... wish to do something?"

You glance at the garden that Leon tends to and the produce, blinking ever so slowly as you smile.

"Will you teach me to tend to the plants?"

"Do you wish for it?"

"I miss my roots." You blink slowly. "The plants miss me. My mortal body has lost itself."

"Then, if I may, I shall tend to them with you again?" Leon tilts his head.

You blink at him, staring into his eyes, past his soul and straight to his heart as he holds his breath. You tilt your head, and your eyes gloss over with a distant look, almost as though you were reminiscing of something. Instead, you nod slowly, blinking as you nod, eyes clearing up as you nod again. This time, you seem sure of it.

"Thank you."

"The pleasure is all mine." Leon mumbles.

Goodness, you're not good for the heart.

You let Leon guide you, his questions lingering in the air when you ask him of everything, needing to be guided and taught how to take care of certain things, and Leon wonders if he could truly do a good job. To worship you, he finds, is to treat you as glass is. When you ask him what to do, he tells you. You are clueless of certain things yet you know much more than he does. He does not understand this dynamic that he has gotten himself into. Teaching a god how to listen to human responses, how works work, and how gardening does.

When the sun rises in the morning, he places a singular peach onto the altar for the wildlife, and he offers you a peach that you have grown used to eating. You thank him with a slow nod, biting into it as he makes a breakfast in a larger than usual portion. He offers you an egg from his pan, but you shake your head, content with the peach in your hands. The juice sticks to your hands as you bite into it, and the fruit gets all over your chin, but you are happy, and even as Leon watches you eat, nearly missing his mouth with the fork, you seem content. Leon finishes his food only after you stare at the peach core left in your hand.

"Will this grow into a tree?"

"It will take a handful of years, but yes." He hums. "We can plant it with the rest of the peach trees in the garden."

You nod slowly.

"I shall go change. Please make yourself comfortable while I do, dearest deity."

You nod, looking around at the wildlife from the window, climbing out as your feet land in the grass, much more comfortable to you. The snakes in the garden slither around your calves, sitting there as you continue walking through the garden to find your temple, the medicinal herbs surrounding the altar looking dimmer than usual as you press your hand to them, the same golden glow restoring the herbs to their colors. You would have to bring a second peach to the altar in the morning from the trees.

"Will you be alright in these clothes?" Leon's changed into something easier to move in, finding you as you stare at the fallen tablet from the night before.

"It will be fine." You smooth your hand over the marble, blinking slowly as you frown. "Do you know what words were once written here?"

"I am afraid not." Leon's heart races in his chest, and you sigh.

"I have lost part of me." You glance at the eroded stone on certain words.

"If I may, I shall help you find it once more."

Leon teaches you the ropes of managing the farm, showing you the equipment and what meant fresh and not fresh. The herbs, you are familiar with, stopping Leon from pulling the rosemary because it was not at its prime, and nodding when Leon shows you how to ripen tomatoes despite them being orange. He shows you how to hide the strawberries from the birds and the indications that the blackberries were ready for harvest. The olive trees are shown to you with the peaches, and you snack on one as Leon hands you another.

In the afternoon, he shows you how to harvest the wheat and store the grain, showing you how to bake bread as you grind the grain into flour with Leon, pushing the till as you heave, falling to your knees once you have made enough for the bread of that night. You lay on the dirty stone for a minute, groaning as Leon packages the flour, holding a hand out for you as you gasp. You hold your hand up for a minute, catching your breath as you take it to get up.

"Do gods not labor?"

"What is there to labor over when the worshippers send you food?"

"Do gods disappear once they are forgotten?"

"Yes." You dust off your clothes, humming. "I have only lived this long because of the care of your blood."

You help Leon season, not much help when it comes to cooking or preparing dishes, and Leon tries to have you keep your hands off of the majority of things, only letting you tend to the herbs and spices, the olives prepared with the oil as you dip the bread in it to try it. You have not much of a reaction, sitting down at the table as Leon serves you the salad, a smaller fish prepared for him.

You settle with the salad, another peach given to you for dessert, biting on it as Leon washes up, cleaning and drying the silver with a rag as you stare at the peach in hand. The green is a little jarring, and you appreciate that Leon picks the riper ones for your temple. Yet, when you bite down, it's sweet, nectar staining your chin as Leon disposes of the peach peels, offering you a cup of water alongside some honey.

You accept it, thanking him with a nod as you go back to the peach, hands stained with sugar.

"Dearest deity." Leon starts. "If I may?"

"Feel free to." You nod, licking your fingers.

"Do you know why you have returned to being human?"

"I'm not quite sure." You look out past the windows, eyes distant.

Leon wonders if he's struck a nerve, but he doesn't have much time to think over it.

For the first time, Leon dreams and remembers.

He's in a field of grass, your head in his lap, closed eyes and blissed smile on your face as he runs his hands through your hair. He's bigger than he is in reality, lion's skin on his head, his fingers rough from what he assumes to be the blade. He pushes your hair out of your face, blinking down at you slowly. The green of the grass creases under your body, and Leon thinks there is a strange sense of domesticity with the way that you trust him so much.

His mouth moves on its own. "Dearest, are you not uncomfortable?"

"Surely not while in your lap." You peek up at him, smile on your face as you beam. "You are comfortable, beloved."

The daffodils in the field are pulled, Leon's fingers clumsy with the stems as he tries to make you a crown, weaving in the green into the braid as you let the breeze tickle your nose. He feels his hands are rough from some sort of labor, and his body feels weary. Yet, there is a fullness in his chest as he finishes the crown, placing it on your head as you open an eye to stare up at him.

"How do I look?"

"Dazzling, darling." He hums, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "You look dazzling."

Leon wakes from the dream in his bed, sitting up and gasping as one does, and he stares at the rising sun and the calling rooster. He rests his head in his palms, groaning at the way his heart refuses to slow down. He hears the sound of the door opening in the back, and he assumes that you've gone off to the well to wash up for the day. He assumes it's a routine for you much like the four peaches he places at the altar, so he gets up, bed covers kicked off as he makes his bed. The peaches have ripened after being left out for the night, and he takes the basket with him, offering you one on the way before taking the other three.

You bite on the peach and follow him to the altar, watching as he leaves the basket. You stare at the peach in your hand and place it back into the basket, teeth marks visible in the one you had placed there, but Leon doesn't mention anything.

Then comes breakfast, eggs for him, an assortment of fruit for you.

Despite your lack of diet, it seems you do not complain. Perhaps your body abides by different rules when compared to his.

He ponders over the idea of insanity when he turns red from eye contact alone. Truly, you are dazzling, and unfortunately, Leon is not immune to such beauty despite staring at your statue each morning. Heavens, he's screwed.

"Is there anything you need, dearest deity?" He offers.

"Not much." You hum. "Do we have other fruit?"

"There is an orchard in the east." Leon hums. "Would you like more fruit?"

You nod.

The orchard is due for some tending. Leon only ever went for olives to have in his meals and peaches for offerings, so it wasn't surprising that the figs were eaten from the inside out alongside the apples and pears. You offer to help, palms held out as you argue that you could technically restore them to their prime. Leon has you rest, pulling out the figs and bad fruit into one basket, tossing the good ones to another.

"Are there any fruits you'd rather not eat?"

You ponder over his words, shaking your head.

Leon finds you familiar. You sit at the corner of the orchard, trailing after him with a basket of your own fruit, and he finds it familiar. You yourself are familiar to him. He has no memory of you, but he can not argue that it is because he has never met you either. He no longer remembers the faces of his own parents. All he knows is the ritual of worship, the routine of faith that he has grown used to. All he remembers about himself is that, now that he thinks about it.

The rest of the night passes in a blur, and Leon has not much of a choice when it comes to resting at night.

When he closes his eyes, he's unsurprised at what he is met with.

It's another dream.

A lion's robe is still on Leon's body this time, and he feels significantly bigger than he is in present. His heart does not beat as harshly as it does in reality, and with each step he takes, he becomes increasingly aware that he is taller than he is in reality. The garden of his home is replaced with a marble home of his own, and he walks through the ruins that have been replaced with a garden in present day. His steps are heavy as he stops in front of the temple, watching as there's a golden hue from the altar — noticeably larger than the one in present.

Leon steps behind you, eyes glued to the words on the tablet that is now restored, frowning.

god of health, herb, home. the lion's beloved

"Are you returning?"

Leon cannot control his mouth, but he stares at the way you tense at his voice.

"My time on earth is short." You turn around to face him, voice quiet as you close your eyes.

Leon's heart rattles in his chest from the way you refuse to look at him. "Can you stay longer?"

"Beloved" You whisper. "I ca—"

"Will you stay longer?" He whispers, voice shaking as he asks. His heart races at being called beloved, but his chest contorts painfully as the man whose body he resides in.

"I cannot." You open your eyes, heart shattering in your ears as you catch his tears. "Oh, beloved, please do not—"

Leon wants to stay, but he watches as the man turns his back, stepping away from the altar as the sound of bells chime to indicate your disappearance.

Instead, when he turns around again, all that remains is a shrunken altar and the temple from the modern day. Leon has what he was holding prior to entering into the past — three peaches in a small basket. You are still behind him, white of your eyes the only visible part of them as your irises cloud over and Leon stares at you. A flash from the past for him, a flash from your life for you. He wonders just who that might have been.

He looks around, catching the fact that you are behind him.

When you return, you stare into nothing, pupils wide as the black of your eyes engulf the entirety of the color of your eye, and Leon stands there, unsure of what to do, blinking slowly as you close your eyes and open them again and again. You blink again, and again, and again, and again. You try to break yourself from the trance— from what Leon can tell.

"Dearest deity." Leon whispers. "Are you alright?"

You blink at Leon again, exhaling as you grimace.

"I will be. Let us drop off the fruit for my herbs first." You take the basket from him, fruit placed on the altar as you bless the peaches.

"How does it work?"

"They live off of the water and juice." You squeeze the fruit, Leon watching as the liquid trickles down your fist onto the plants, the red herbs brightening up nearly immediately. The yellow follows, and the green last. You take the scissors to cut three of the herbs, two of each herb, juice-stained fingers sticking to the plants as you place them into the basket.

Leon nods as you hand him the herbs, thanking you.

Food is simple today. It is typically a loaf and some legumes, occasionally fish if the two of you decide to head out to fish at the lake. Leon has grown used to a life like this, and you make do without eating fish, so Leon goes out less and less, growing legumes with you as you learn from him, forming an appetite for fruit as well, snacking on blackberries as he picks at the strawberries that he hides from the birds. You bite down on certain ones, slipping a piece past Leon's lips as he places a cucumber in your basket, thanking you quietly as he checks out the lettuce.

"What do you want for dinner?"

You glance at the lettuce and the berries, tilting your head.

"...salad?"

"Fruit salad? I should retrieve some olives as well, then." Leon holds his hand out for the basket, and you give him your hand instead.

Leon does a double take, blinking at your hand and then at you, and you offer him a shy smile.

"If this is alright?"

"More than alright, dearest deity." Leon smiles. "I am honored you would initiate it."

Leon finds that you are much more affectionate now that time has passed. He does not keep track of the days, time something he no longer holds, sharing dishes and bites with you when he can, showing you the rest of the garden that he leaves to tend on its own. Leon understands something. Whoever he is in his dreams, you left. Whoever you are in the dream, you did not wish to leave. He understands not much from it. The heart of whose body he was in his dreams was scarred when you left.

It hurt him to think about it, so he busies himself with the sand between his toes.

"We had a beach?"

"We have a sea." Leon stares out at the horizon. "I wonder if the lobsters are ready for harvest."

"You can eat those?"

Leon nods slowly, laughing as you furrow your brows.

"How does... that work." You pause. "You crack the head?"

"You pop the head off, and you pull out the meat from the whole tail."

You blink twice.

"May I... watch you prepare it?"

"With pleasure." He smiles. "Shall we go catch one?"

You watch Leon ditch the top, skin out for the world to see, and Leon feels a little embarrassed being so bare before you, but you don't seem to mind, watching as he takes a trident.

"You pierce them?"

"They don't move as fast. Perhaps I have grown used to the water."

The blue of the ocean is pretty. Leon still isn't over the beauty of it, and it always surprises him when he dives for crustaceans, trident heavy against his arm as he pierces through the shells, three tucked into the bag net he carries, paddling back to the surface as he wonders how he had been able to hold his breath for so long. The question fades just as quickly, eyes meeting yours as you blink, doe-eyed, eyes wide as you seem to drink in every part of his skin.

"Dearest deity?"

"Apologies." You hide your face, sinking into the ground with embarassment as Leon laughs, letting the net fall into the sand as he crouches in front of you, hair pushed back, saltwater still dripping from his hair and skin. He watches as your eyes dart to his chest and then abdomen, thoughts written all over your face as you hide again.

"I shall dress again."

"There's no need." You manage, still hiding your face. "I... prefer the way you are."

Leon feels an arrow pierce his heart, ears ringing as he processes what you've just said. He's sure he's turned red like the tomatoes once ripe, and he hides his face in his knees, shaking slightly as he processes your bluntness. Dare he say it, he liked it.

Though, it would be his grace if you were to fall for him. It was only a given that he would worship you.

He doesn't feel as though he is in a position where he could truly get to profess his love to you first.

At night, you request of him to tuck you into bed, pout on your lips as he sits by your bed, letting you squeeze his hand with a gentle grab, watching as you drift off to sleep.

He wonders if you need sleep truly — considering you are a deity and all.

Though, Leon does.

The third time Leon dreams, he is no longer in a lion's skin.

He feels younger, white on his body, blue brooch around his neck and blouse on his skin. There is a veil on his head, and it seems as though he is in the temple of yours once more. He does not understand this quite that much. It seems as though he is being offered up for some kind of ritual. It is some sort of marriage, he assumes. Blue eyes and golden hair, cerulean brooch and white blouse, ruffled bow and laced veil, Leon truly feels that he is being offered up as a groom rather than a servant. He wonders if the person he has possessed is aware of it.

His body moves on its own, veil over his head shifting as he looks down, standing before what he assumes as the head priest. The priest places a crown of... herbs on his head, and he is placed on the altar, some sort of glow occurring around him as he forces his eyes open. The veil sticks to his head as he notices the priest and all their followers are gone when he opens his eyes. Instead, he catches a glance of you above him, head tilted as you blink down at him.

"You're quite young, sacrifice." You grin, teeth visible. "What might your name be?"

Nevermind the fact that Leon's heart is racing a thousand pes an hour, his heart is about to leap out of his chest. Yet, Leon is curious of the man's name, but he finds it surprising that he chokes out his own name.

"Leon, dearest deity." He whispers. "I am your... groom."

"How rare that they would send a groom rather than a servant." You tilt your head at him. "Well, do make yourself at home. We've got plenty of plants and fruit."

Leon steps down from the altar, stepping on a piece of marble before taking a tumble, the tablet breaking under his foot as he blinks.

"I'm sorry." He gapes.

You raise a brow, mumbling to yourself as you tap your chin.

"Oh, dear." You laugh. "I'll restore it sometime. Please take care of the garden while I do."

Leon's dream is far longer than he is comfortable. He wonders how much time has passed in reality in the dream, and he learns to take care of the garden that resembles the one he tends to each night. There is a lake in the back where he fishes, and he learns to cook meals for the two of you, typically baking bread and making soup. He learns that you prefer the best harvest of peaches, but you share them with him, teaching him how to make crisp and how to cook the oats until they are crispy. You adore peaches with or without honey and spices. It is why the peach tree was so large in the orchard.

During the time, he learns that gods do in fact visit the earth outside of their domains. You return in time for dinner every single day, and you tell him of what has happened recently with the temple over his meals. He likes this life. At one point, the worshippers send him the very lion skin he wore in his previous dream. The connection between your domain and reality is created through prayer. Not faithfulness, number.

You complete a number of miracles, and in return, your worshippers increase in number, which, in turn, grants you access back home.

When Leon wakes, his heart is racing in his chest for no reason, blinking at the knife in hand and cutting board on the counter and then at the tomatoes.

"Kind mortal?"

"My apologies." Leon sighs, going back to cutting the veggies. "It seems I had gotten lost in myself."

Not reality. Leon is not in reality. Instead, he has been stuck in an endless cycle of immortality, and without you around, the age had worn him down until all he remembered was to worship you. If your temple was run down in your domain, he can not imagine how ruined your temple in reality was. Leon has become immortal from partaking of the food of the gods. The peaches he offered to the gods was for you, and the herbs he cut was granting him immortality in return.

Leon Kennedy had lived for so long that he forgot this was not his home, it was yours.

The immortality from the herbs had been eating his mind from the inside out.

He wonders if you remember, but he doesn't ask.

Instead, he asks you if you would like to go fishing with him, fishing rod in hand.

You tilt your head at the rod, nodding as he takes everything. The pond spawns all sorts of fish, now that he thinks about it. The expensive fish he used to dream of owning back when he was in reality, the fish that he had when his family had a nice harvest, just about everything. It feels strange to remember that this is your home and not his, but he doesn't dwell too much on it. Instead, he sits at the dock, holding out the fishing rod as you sit next to him, basket of strawberries in your lap as you eat them.

"Do you eat fish?" The answer is no, yet Leon finds himself asking anyway.

"No." You hum. "I can live off of produce."

You take a bite of the strawberries almost as if to make a point, pointing at the fishing line with a kick of your legs as Leon reels in the fish, pulling it out of the water with a ceremonious thud.

"Good job." You hum. "I didn't know we had catfish."

Leon raises a brow at you. "What else do we have?"

You shrug. "I don't know much. My followers only ever send me peaches now. Not that I do not appreciate it."

Leon finds it strange that there happens to be both a lake and an ocean, the two connected by a small river, a waterfall that collapses into the ocean, and the sea leads into nothing. It seems that you knew, but you never mentioned it in any way. If this domain was yours, then he found it intriguing that you had been offered enough fish that there would form an ocean. The offerings given seem to not expire, and the ecosystem seems to reproduce and go on as it would in reality.

He wonders if reality is the right word to describe his world, though. Perhaps earth would have made for a better word. He wonders what is happening on earth. Maybe this was some sort of Mount Olympus... or whatnot. He doubts it is. He would have recognized living on an actual mountain.

Well, at the very least, fishing is quite fun.

When he pulls in the second catch of the day, he decides that it's enough.

"What do you want for dinner?"

Leon wonders if he should try making pie in one of the vessels.

You tap your chin. "Something baked sounds good."

"Oh, I'm sure it does." Leon mumbles. "Pie?"

You nod. "Shall I help?"

He shakes his head.

The more Leon thinks of it, the more he realizes that he's always been making portions for two. It was embedded into his soul. When he had leftovers, it was much easier to feed it to the poultry in the back and the pigs. Now, that second portion had a reason. He had always found it bizzare. It was because he used to cook with his mother for his father, not the fact that he had been cooking for the two of you for such a long time.

When Leon sends you to bed at night, he watches you for a few moments longer, wondering if this was something he had done in the past.

He does not dream this time.

So, when he wakes in the morning and you have a pear in hand with a knife in the other, he blinks at you.

"Dearest?"

"Teach me how to cut fruit?"

Leon wonders if you were the one to teach him first, but the more he thinks back on the dream, the more he wonders just whether or not you had been eating in the time that you lacked a sacrifice. Would sacrifice be the correct word? The more he considers it, the more he thinks of himself as a gift from the priest rather than a sacrifice. Is that egoistical? Perhaps it is. It is more of a blessing on his end to be able to stay with you for so long. The herbs he had each morning must have been keeping him nice and healthy despite his time in your realm.

He may have forgotten, but it seems that his body had remembered.

He teaches you how to hold the knife, cut by cut showing you how to peel the fruit, and you decide that peeling half of it and then eating the other half after spitting out the core was the better decision. He finds that that ties into what he remembers about you as well.

It seems he remembers now.

Leon understands that you expect a singular peach and then three more at the altar, but he does not do so this fateful day. There is something he must check, and someone he must attempt to understand. There was no way you did not know. You were not as foolish as to not. It had been in the way you looked at him. He knew, from the very beginning. You knew perhaps, as well, that when you had opened your eyes from the inside of the altar, you had been observing him and not your surroundings.

You had been observing your lover who had forgotten you, not the home you resided in.

"You are home, dearest deity." Leon offers. "You need not the peaches anymore."

You blink at Leon, hesitation bleeding through you as you pause to breathe.

"Since when have you recalled?"

"A while back." Leon mumbles. "I was not certain if you wished for me to bring it up."

You blink at Leon, sitting yourself back on the altar, the lack of glowing visible now that everyone has forgotten about you. You will no longer be able to return to the world that you had left to. You would be stuck tending to the garden that you had started long before Leon joined you here. At the very least, he would be able to stay forever with you, only needing to tend to the herbs and grow them. Yet, he wonders where all of the maidens you had been offered so long ago ended up.

You stare at the broken tablet, laughing embarrassingly as you smile at Leon.

"Truly reminds you the first time we met, huh?"

"Yes." He rests the empty basket on the altar, taking it from your hand as he smooths the rusted words over. "God of health, herbs, home."

"The lion's beloved." You whisper back. "I missed you."

"I know." He mumbles, setting it to the side as he lets you sob into his chest.

"I missed you." You gasp. "You... you forgot me. I expected it, but I had been in the fabric between reality and my realm that I was sure you would stop building my way home, but you remembered the prayers. You recalled the words you had grown used to prior to your sacrifice, and I... you found my way home."

"I'm sorry, dearest." He whispers. "I had forgotten. I have been around for far too long. I am sorry I had forgotten to welcome you home."

There is a certain beauty that comes with remembering, Leon finds. In the centuries that he had forgotten all about you, his heart had somehow remembered, adorning you in the lion's mane until he forgot it was his first, singing hymns he knew you cherished from the time he had spent with you, leaving you peaches because you had always shared the best harvest of them with him, sneaking in that you adored the taste of the nectar on your tongue. His mind had forgotten, but his heart had not, burying you into the depths of his consciousness until he would remember you again one day.

His hands have grown rough with a different kind of labor over the years, and he has lost much of the large muscle he had arrived with from his way of living, but the feeling of your skin is still familiar to his touch.

Right.

His mind could forget, but his soul could never.

"You're making me a crisp later." You huff.

"Of course." He laughs. "Anything else?"

"And I want a kiss for all the years you forgot about me for."

"That can be made up with the life ahead."

And to seal the promise, Leon kisses you, hands gentle on your skin, clarity restored.

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Happy (Naruto x Reader)

Request: "I was thinking of something that Naruto and Reader have been best friends for a long time, and one day she gets hurt on a mission, and he cries, but in the end everything ends well."

A/N: request for @writing-x-reader sorry it took so long, end of the semester has been very difficult. Also my first naruto fic. We will see how it goes. Hope I did your request justice! Not proof read at all, sorry about that.

Word count: 3000

_____

Jeez, how was it that someone like her managed to meet someone as perfect as him? It felt surreal.

She wanted to kiss him. She felt herself leaning forward just slightly, feeling her heart rate beat swiftly in her chest at the sight of his tired eyes laying beside her. He blew out steady breaths through his lips, and she thought they looked more kissable than ever before. He was such a sweet guy, so handsome and kind and brave, and everything in between. She wanted  him to be completely hers, but that wasn’t happening.

So she laid back down beside him on the plush grass and sighed. 

Could they ever be anything more than friends?  It seemed impossible. He had that long time crush on Sakura, for one. But he was also so dumb when it came to love and all those things. He couldn’t get her hints, and she was too shy to just tell him outright. It just seemed like a hopeless dream to think they would ever date. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” 

“You got a piece of something stuck in your hair.” Her hands ran to touch the strands that hung around her head, and he just laughed with a shake of his head. “Let me get it,” he told her softly, reaching out to take a piece of leaf from her hair. She felt her cheeks begin to heat up at his touch, and his kindness, and the way he was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Thanks."

"You know, you should wear your hair down more often. It looks really nice on you. I like it," the blond commented, his head propped up in his hand, hair falling into his face and shading over his eyes. He had that kind smile across his face, whiskers and all just adding to the look she adored.

Her cheeks grew warmer at his words and she opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Her nerves had silenced her. Instead, she simply shook her head and lowered her eyes, too bashful to maintain the eye contact.

"You- You're beautiful, you know? You really shouldn't be so shy."

Her heart raced at his words, and Y/N felt herself falling into a state of confusion and frustration. How could he say those things so casually, when to her it felt like he was playing with her entire heart in his hands? He was just so nice, and he always knew the right thing to say to make her like him even more, even deeper than she realized.

"Naruto..."

He laughed, leaning back against the grass and kicking one leg over the other. "What? Just being honest. Thought girls liked compliments?"

"No, no, I do. Thank you. I really should build confidence but it's not as easy as you think."

It was quiet for a moment, and she took that as her chance to get away, to clear her head and sort through all these conflicting thoughts.

Quickly, she gathered herself up and stood from the grass. She couldn’t be here anymore. She felt too many conflicting emotions running through her mind. She just wanted to be with him, but that was impossible. It made her stomach turn at the thought, and she just needed to get away, run as far as she could so she could be alone with her embarrassing crush on the hero of the leaf.

“I’ve got to go, Naruto.”

“Aw, really? It was so much fun just chilling here with you.”

He was having a good time? Of course he was, they were best friends. They wouldn't be friends if he didn't have a fun time when she was around. She shook her head softly to drown out her loud thoughts. “I’ll see you on our mission tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yep. See you.”

“Bye.”

She walked off with heat in her cheeks and heart resting upon her sleeve. She was just so stupid. Crushing on someone so unattainable. The next opportunity she got to confess to him, she would. Just get it done instead of obsessively thinking about it all the time. It was driving her insane, and she needed to fix the situation. Whatever happened, she just hoped they remained friends afterwards. 

He was a sweet guy, he would most likely stay her friend and just forget about everything, right? 

Just stop thinking about it all, she scolded herself. It wqould only make her more nervous, or even avoid confessing at all. What had to be done, would be done. Whether they stayed the same afterwards or not would be a different story, and she could only hope for the best.

_______

The blade came down upon Y/N with enough strength to pierce her skin and run all the way down her chest, tearing through the skin and some muscle as it did so. She cried out, so  surprised by the attack that her eyes widened and she had to do a double take. That man was behind her just a second ago, how did he get so close so fast? She didn’t know. All she knew was that blood was soaking deep into her tunic. 

If she had the strength left in her lungs, she would call out for her teammate, for Ino, to come and help her. She was a medical nin, right? But her chest ached, and the most she could get from her lips was a mere whisper. 

Everything hurt. Her body burned like fire had touched it, and her skin was hot and sticky to the touch.

She laid back on the ground, without any hope. Someone would get to her when they finished whatever they were doing, she just had to wait. It couldn’t be long.

And it wasn’t.

Naruto stood above her in an instant, and he was quick to fall to his knees at her side. His hands anxiously hovered over the long cut from the knife, and if she were seeing correct, they were shaking fiercely. The strong and brave Naruto brought to a quivering state? She couldn’t believe it. Maybe if he had found Sakura lying here instead, she could understand, but not her. She wasn’t anything special. 

“Y/N? Y/N? Are you alright?” he asked, leaning in closer to her face. 

“I'll be okay,” she whispered, reaching her hand out to latch onto one of his. He grabbed up her hand the second he saw her struggle, and cradled it within his own, squeezing maybe a little too hard for comfort, but she could definitely manage. She could feel the heart radiating from his warm hands into her dripping cold ones. A small smile crossed her lips at the feeling, holding his hands. It was nice.

“Y/N, please. Ino- I don’t know where Ino went. Just keep trying for a little longer,” he pleaded,and at this point, she noticed the tears that were brimming his eyes, sliding down his cheeks so silently, she probably wouldn’t notice them any other time if she weren’t so entranced by his features through the hazy lens. “Please, don’t die.”

“I-I don’t know, Naruto.”

“Yes, you do know! Don’t just give up , please! Don’t give up for me, okay?” he exclaimed, and she winced at the height of his voice. Quickly, the boy hushed down, collapsing down at her side from all the sadness seeping into his body. “You just can’t die. I need you,” he whimpered, wiping away at his tears with his shoulder.

“Naruto-”

“I know you’re my best friend, and I know you don’t see me this way, but I love you, Y/N. I’ve felt that way for the longest time,” he confessed, and she felt her heart pick up in her chest, skipping a beat at the sudden confession. He loved her. Naruto Uzumaki, the boy of her dreams, was in love with her. She was high on the endorphins running through her body, and  a soft smile lifted on her face. He only clutched at her hands harder, tears continuing to drip heavily down his cheeks. “You are just so perfect. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She knew she didn’t have much time left. She was slipping across the line of consciousness, and she just wanted to get in one more thought before drifting to sleep for a while. 

“I-I love you, too, Naruto.”

“Okay, so live! You have to now. We have to go on dates and everything! Come on, Y/N, please!” he cried, more hysterical now than ever. She sighed, knowing that there was nothing she could do to mend away those painful tears. She was dying right here in front of him and there was nothing anyone could do. They just had to wait until Ino found them and hopefully heal her enough that she could live. It was worth a shot.

And if she died? So be it. She was content. In her last moments, she felt Naruto’s love completely fill her heart and mind. That was the most she could hope for in a situation like this, being surrounded by someone who cares about you so immensely it hurts. She squeezed his hands gently, as she felt her eyes closing. He pleaded with her once again, but to no avail, she was out like a light. 

He kept on crying, harder now that she was gone and he couldn’t even see her eyes anymore, or hear another word leave her mouth. He felt like everything was coming crashing down on him at once. His poor friend was lying in front of his dying, and he couldn’t do anything to help her besides leaving the body alone to look for Ino, or just wait. He wasn’t too found of the thought of abandoning her body out here in the woods like that.

He clutched at her cold hand in his shaky ones, trying to feel some comfort in the skin to skin touch. Anything to bring her back to him and make him feel like things were okay again.

Ino rushed out of the forest as fast as she could after hearing Naruto call her name a couple times out in the open. Her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. Y/N looked dead. Her body was so covered in blood she couldn’t make out an inch of her shirt that wasn’t soaked in it.

“What happened to Y/N?”

“I don’t even know. One second she was fine and the next she looked like this!” Naruto cried as Ino crouched one the other side of her body. Immediately, she set to work healing, and thankfully, there was enough chakra flowing through the girl’s body to signal a swift recovery. Ino wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen Naruto a blubbering mess the way he was right now. He was crying and sobbing, and shaking like a poor little leaf. The blond rightfully felt terrible for not being there sooner.

“Naruto, what’s wrong? Y/N is going to be fine, I promise.”

“I couldn’t even protect her. I love her so much, and I let this happen to her. What sort of friend does that make me?” he cried, trying desperately to wipe the tears from his eyes so Ino couldn’t see anymore. Guess it doesn’t matter though,  does it?

“You love her?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, she definitely loves you, too,” Ino sighed, continuing her work. She could feel Y/N getting better with every second that passed by, and she hoped there wouldn’t be any permanent damage. There was no way to tell right now, so she would just wait.

Naruto’s brows perked, and he asked, “What? How do you know?”

“She’s told me. Like, a bunch of times.”

Naruto sat back, falling flat on his butt in surprise. Y/N loved him? For a while? She liked him enough to divulge in her crush to friends? How did he never notice? They were best friends, he was around her almost all the time. How could she keep something like that a secret? He thought he’d made it more than obvious that he had a crush on her, but he guessed she never noticed that either. 

He was confused, rightfully so. Finding out your friend has a crush on is weird enough, but it being requited is a completely different thing. What would happen after this? Would they date? Was that even an option? Would she even want to? Maybe when she said I love you, she meant it as a friend. That could be it. 

He really just couldn’t make up his mind.

He would just have to wait until they got home, when she was awake and sound of mind, before they could figure out what was going on between them. The waiting would kill him, he was sure of it. But it had to be done.

______

When they arrived back at the village, Y/N was taken to the infirmary immediately. She was hooked up to machines and laid down in a white, sterile room away from Naruto’s prying eyes. Rightfully so, he was anxious to see her. They had just confessed their love to each other, what else could be more pressing than that?

The boy walked around in spiraling circles through the waiting room awaiting the doctor to peek her head in and inform him of her condition. And she did, after a couple hours. She walked into the room and told him it was time to go and visit her, she would be waking up any time now.

She lay still in the bed, only soft breaths bringing her chest to rise and fall. He collapsed into the seat beside her bed and reached out, taking a hold of her hand and squeezing it. Maybe if he continued to squeeze her hand, she would wake up sooner, he thought. He needed to see her, to hear her voice, anything. Just seeing her laying in this bed was driving him insane. There was too much to talk about.

And when her eyes started to open, he found himself practically jumping up from his chair to be closer to her. She groaned, lifting her other hand to rub at her tired eyes. 

“Y/N?”

“Naruto?” she asked in her sleepy state, confused as to why he would be there of all people. She turned her head to see the ball of sunshine sitting beside her, holding her hand even, and staring her right in the eyes. She felt heat begin to fill her cheeks. Was he that excited to make sure she was okay?

“I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried about you.”

“I-I’m sorry for making you worry so much,” she found herself mumbling the first thought that came to her mind, no matter how silly it may have been.

 He clutched at her hand, shaking his head furiously at what she had just said. “Stop! Don’t say sorry! It’s my fault for not protecting a teammate out there.” It wasn’t his responsibility to make sure she was okay the entire time, he had other priorities of course. She sighed, shaking her head, but not arguing with him.

"You're right. But you did help me out when I was down and I appreciate that."

"Of course! It's what a good guy does," he chirped, but his mind was obviously on something else that they had avoided so far in their conversation. His eyes trailed to the table beside her, not wanting to look her in the eyes as he brought it up. "About what we said back there."

"Yeah, the confessions…"

He asked, doubt just now creeping up in the back of his mind, "You meant it, right?" She was in distress. It could have been a love confession out of desperation. He was definitely over thinking things, something he rarely did. He was so straightforward. Just calm down, he told himself.

"I meant what I said. I hope you meant everything you said too," she told him, still feeling that heat creeping up her neck and ears now. So embarrassing. 

"You bet I did! I'm so happy you like me back! I've liked you for so long, Y/N."

"So that means we can go on dates like you said? Ramen dates, maybe?"

"Ooohh, Ichiraku dates. Sounds so good."

He was happier than he ever felt before, high off life and love and just so much emotion it was bubbling out. He smiled at his new found girlfriend, just watching as she went on about cute date ideas they could go on, her eyes lighting up and her lips curled up in a sweet smile he loved.

Times were good. So freaking good.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Stitches, Part 3

A/N: Yep, I’ve ventured off the Marvel path and penned a few tales for The Witcher!

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut and cannon level violence

Stiches Part 1 & Stitched Part 2

The light of day began to be swallowed by the shadows of night as you walked behind the Witcher to the outskirts of town. You stared at the massive sword across his broad back, trying to remind yourself he would keep you safe. Yet, you were following him to the one place you found most terrifying.

“Keep up,” He grunted. “I want to have enough light to look around without starting a fire.”

You nearly ran to catch up with his long strides. Geralt looked over his shoulder, seeing the wide-eyed glances you shot to the darkest recesses of the woods. He paused, cupping your cheek in his gloved hand. You took a shuttered breath and tried to look brave. Nerves attempted to crawl out of your stomach.

“I won’t let it hurt you.” He leaned his forehead close to yours.

“But I’m still the bait.” Your voice came out small, little more than a whisper.

“A hym will only appear in the right circumstances, so yes, you are there to draw it out.” He stood to his full, impressive height. “Then I will destroy it.”

Geralt turned back to the road. The smithie’s old home and workshop could be seen just ahead. Brush and grass grew out of control with no one in residence. The door to the workshop appeared to be partially off its hinges, as if someone tore it open. You placed a hand on the Witcher’s back as he stepped inside.

Boxes and bins had been over-turned, ransacked for anything valuable. Rusted nails, twisted chains, and bent shoes scattered the floor. The forge was a black pit against the far wall. Geralt moved to the open door leading into the house. Darker inside, you stayed close as he moved from abandoned room to abandoned room.

Racoons and mice nested in furniture and corners. The sound of their movements made you twitch. Geralt kicked over a table in the main living area and pushed the top against the far wall. He shoved the broken chair and bench to the corner as well.

“Here should do.” He pointed to the interior corner of the room, furthest from the doors and windows. “Stay in that corner. Stay low.” He gripped your upper arm in a firm hand. His face leaned close to yours and spoke quietly. “Do not run, little dove. I will protect you. It’s only fear projected by the hym. Whatever you do, stay in the corner. Don’t get in my way. I need to focus on the hym, so I need you to stay put. Understand?”

You nodded. The anxiety and nervousness already churned your stomach and made your hands sweat. His golden eyes remained locked on yours until you took a deep breath and said, “I’ll stay in the corner. I trust you to protect me.”

His jaw clenched and he gave a single nod before turning you around and giving you a subtle push. You wedged your back into the corner and sunk to crouch on your heels. Beside you, the remnants of a chair littered the floor. You picked up a wooden leg. It wasn’t much, but it felt weighty in your hands.

Geralt drew his sword, balancing it easily in his grip with point up and the blade parallel to the back of his arm. He stood, relaxed but aware, as he waited. You could not see his face, but his head moved slightly as his glance shifted from the door to workshop to the door the outside. The room darkened as the minutes ticked by.

Your breath hitched. Something cold, terrifying, battered your senses. The need to run became overwhelming. You couldn’t see anything, but you knew it was there. A whine escaped your throat as you pushed backed into the corner harder.

Geralt’s head tipped, catching the change in your behavior. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. His breath slowed even more.

A shadow lurched forward. You screamed. A dark beast lunged. Vaguely humanoid in shape, with arms reaching the ground, hairless and skin like aged leather, it rushed at you with mouth open wide. You screamed again, seeing only the long needle like teeth.

A giant sword curved down in a blur. The hym dodged, catching the blade upon its shoulder. Its screeched, the sound making your ears ring. It jumped, bouncing off the wall and crashing across the room and through the door to the workshop, moving like a gigantic jumping spider.

“Don’t move!” Geralt shouted, running after the beast.

The crash of bodies against the wall, made louder by rattling chains and clanging horseshoes, left you shaking. A force hit so hard plaster flew from the wall. You closed your eyes against the dust. The hym wailed again. You covered your head with your arms, screaming.

Every instinct, every urge, insisted you run and get as far away as possible. Tears streamed down your face. The otherworldly terror made you shake. “He’ll protect me. He’ll protect me. He’ll protect me.” You chanted.

The wall gave way with a crash, Geralt and the hym tumbled into the room, black gore spraying along the wall and floor. With a roar, the Witcher swung his sword down to behead the beast. You scurried up and moved along the wall to avoid the flow of thick black blood.

Your keening whine dissolved to rapid pant as you stared at the head.

Geralt let out a heavy breath, rolling his shoulders back. With habitual movements, he wiped the blade before securing it to his back. He turned to you. Other than some hair pulled free of its ties and dirt upon his clothes, he looked no different than he had an hour before.

Approaching you slowly, as if you’d rabbit at a sudden movement, Geralt held out a hand. “It’s over.”

You focused on his face, eye glinting in the darkness. They softened, as he said your name. You took two quick steps and wrapped your arms around his chest. His hands gentle soothed your back. A tremor began in your stomach and it grew to fill your limbs. You couldn’t stop it.

“Shhh.” He breathed into your hair. “It’s the fear passing. You’ll be fine. I’ve got you.”

You lost track of how long you stood there. Eventually, you pulled back. “I need – Can we go outside? I need air.”

“Come,” Geralt led you through the dark to the road outside. The air smelled better. Someone nearby had a fire going in their hearth. The breeze blew the scent through the trees. After a few moments of breathing fresh air, your legs no longer felt like jelly.

“What now?” You peeked around his broad shoulder to the front of the abandoned home.

“Hym bodies turn to dust quickly. A day or two and it will be nothing by grime.” He gave you a rueful smile. “It’s not like there was a bounty on the beast.”

You rested your forehead against his bicep, clutched his forearm. “I cannot thank you enough.” He touched your head with his other hand, prompting you to gaze up to his eyes. “Is your wound alright? Should I check your stitches?”

With a wicked curve of his lip, Geralt rumbled. “You may have to take a very close look, just to be sure.” His tease brought out a giggle. You felt his strong hand rub along the small of your back. His low gravely voice brushed your ear. “We should return to the inn, I can hear the bath and bed calling.”

He led you past the few patrons in the dining room. Rulla, the innkeeper, looked up. You could see the concern in her eyes melt away to relief as you nodded to her. She knew of the night’s adventure. Geralt paused beside her, requesting hot water for the bath.

The fear and adrenaline left you in something of a daze by the time you found yourself sitting beside the large tub in the bedroom. Geralt stripped off his sword and armor, he knelt before you and took your left boot in his hand to unlace the ties.

You were vaguely aware of a tap at the door, but he reply with a gruff “yes”.

Rulla and two boys came in all carrying heavy buckets of steaming water. She asked the Witcher if you were alright, he nodded. “She had a scare, but did well…just needs a bath and a sleep without nightmares.”

“Good, good.” She patted Geralt’s shoulder. “Leave her in your care, then?”

He grunted an affirmative. As the door closed, he set aside you shoes and stood to strip off his own clothing. You watched, a lazy smile growing on your face. He pulled at your hands, prompting you to stand. “Like what you see?”

“Mmm, yes.” You leaned forward to rubbed your nose into the hair covering his muscular chest. He smell of sweat, and man, and your favorite rosemary mint soap. Your hands drifted along his sides, but he push you away enough to loosen your dress.

Geralt removed your clothes. He groaned a bit as he stepped into the tub. Hold out a hand, he drew you into the hot water with him. Arranging you between his legs, Geralt took up the soft cloth and your soap. He quickly washed away his own sweat as you rested your chin upon you updrawn knees.

“Come here.” He eased you back to rest against his chest. With careful strokes, he cleaned away the scent of fear. Soon he abandoned the cloth, to allow his hands to roam over your warm, wet flesh.

Rough, calloused fingers examined the length of your neck. Hands slid along your sides, to encircle you and pull you tight against the bulk of his body. His hot breath tickled your ear before his teeth grazed the skin. Giant palms covered your breasts, kneading and teasing your hard nipples.

You gave a deep sigh. It turned to a moan as his erection rocked against your ass. His mouth latched on to the conjunction of your neck and shoulder, sending a shiver down your body. Geralt rumbled his delight. One of his hand slipped between your legs to bury into your slick core, the other circled your neck to stretch your body along his.

“Mmm, little dove,” He growled. “I’m going to fuck you into a dreamless sleep.”

“Gods, yes.” You panted, already feeling the spiraling tension at your core. His thick fingers buried deep. Your legs spread as far as the tub would permit.

He pulled you up, tightening the hold on your throat, until you felt the head of his cock slip against your core. He guided you down on to himself, slowly a first. Your fingers grasped his arm and moaned, the stretch divine. His fingers danced across your sensitive clit, drawing mewls from you throat.

You were completely in his control. His hips rocked up, gaining speed and force, sloshing water. The vibration of his growl shot through you as he bit down on your shoulder. Your thighs shook. His hand moved to your hip as he slammed into you. Powerful, strong, fast. You orgasm hit you hard, stealing your breath, making you quake.

“Yes,” He growled, fucking you with brutal intensity, not allowing you to come down. Water sprayed. Bodies slapped. He planted his feet against tub wall, arching up and slamming your pliant body onto his cock. You moaned and cried, overwhelmed. His groans and grunts filled your ears. Your legs curled up, coming again, milking his cock and pulling him with you. His arms wrapped around you tight, pushing deep, and filling you.

Geralt moaned and collapse into the now cool water. He looked over the room and chuckled, you felt it through your whole body. Limp, you could only manage a quiet “hm?”.

“It’s a good thing we’re not upstairs and floor is stone.” His voice rumbled in your ear. “We would have flooded anyone below us.”

You couldn’t open your eyes enough to look, but smiled weakly.

“Are you alright, little dove?” His hands reverted back to their soft caresses.

“M’good.” You mumbled. Body limp, nerves tingly, exhaustion pulled at you.

He chuckled again and maneuvered you off of him. He smiled at your moan and small frown as his cock slipped from your body. Geralt sat you forward so he could stand. Then he picked you up and carried you to the bed. Throwing back the covers, he stretch you both out naked to the warm evening air.

You curled against his massive chest, almost asleep immediately.

Geralt sighed, his eyes drifting closed. Tracing shapes on your bare skin with his fingertips, he whispered as he drifted off, “Sleep well, little dove. I’ll keep you safe.”

TAGS:

@night-cereus​ / @peter-pan-hoe​ / @davidbuddbg​ / @saiyanprincessswanie​ 

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My Masterlist

[unikornu]

Page 11, Exposure

-Good ol’ wild west, our next target, Boss. And judging by the map we are halfway through, dayum, i’m fucking impressed how much we did. Gage let out a long whistle while eyeballing her pipboy map, approaching together the next target, Dry Rock Gulch. The rocks around were massive and the scenery was very convincing into bringing some dusty cowboy memories. Even weather was fitting their excursion. 

*plop* Lucy was working her jaw on a pre-war gum drops, making Gage nerve vein show up on his face each time she blew a balloon. -Looking how they…*plop* could create pretty much anything, no wonder Nuka World is so tempting as a base *plop*. He took a chance while Lucy mouth was running and gave her pat on a back strong enough that the gum flew out of her mouth. 

- Khyy, what the hell Gage? She coughed repeatedly and shook a fist in his face. 

-You know it’s annoying as fuck and ruining your teeth with all that shit it still has, consider it me taking care of your sweet mouth and my calming therapy. He grinned and turned his head towards the park entrance. 

-----

The wind was pushing small clumps of dry grass around and nothing could be heard from inside the park other than rolling paper cups. At the gate they were welcomed by the warning sign “Danger, Bloodworms!”. Lucy stood behind the raider and eyeballed a sign. -Bloodworms… She froze in place and the blood slowly drained down from the face making her fairly pale, despite the warm rays that were hitting them. Gage was relaxed, even slightly happy. 

- Ha, just some stupid worms? That’s it? Nice change for once, ain’t it Boss? Hm? Gage turned around back to her after not receiving a single response. She was standing, looking at sign and then back at him spinning the knife in the shaking hands. - You okay Boss? Don’t ya tell me you are scared of some crawling dicks? He put a hand on her shoulder and shook it a bit to get at least a word out her. - Boss?

- I…i…just got hit by the sun too much and blacked out for….a second. Uhm…ye worms, let’s go. You first since you are so….eager to stomp them. She lied through her teeth and took a deep breath as they started moving. Going right behind, nervously scanning area around, she pulled out silently a dose of calmex in a hope of injecting just a little bit more but as Gage stopped abruptly walking into his back, she dropped it on the sandy ground and kicked it aside hiding her failed attempt.

-Shit, you sure you are okay? You act freaking weird since we entered. Raider turned around his head just enough to show his angry brow expression and moved back on. Lucy let out a silent sigh seeing her syringe getting lost in a sand as they walked away. 

The robot silhouette showed up behind a corner greeting them with a very stiff cowboy act “yiihaah-doggies-of-the-wild-west”. - Now, that’s interesting…there will be nice spare parts once i’m done kicking the shit out of you, sheriff. Raider cracked his fist preparing to give machine a solid hit through the glass but Lucy pulled his hand away. 

-Just wait a moment goddamit, information first, smash after, right? He hmphed but backed away lighting a cigarette, letting her do the all the wire work. Few sparks in the back and there it was, every information they needed served on a table. 

Sadly as the robot recording was going on about the worms and possible nest the her face was turning more and more into fear expression. Before Gage had a chance continue on his disturbed action as he strolled around with his smoke Lucy was already out of control kicking the robot down and swearing uncontrollably. The sound of metal smashing and thumping reached the ground under, waking up everything lying beneath their feet. They were coming and they were hungry. 

----

- Well, good fucking job Boss…He threw the smoke aside and stuffed a fresh magazine into the rifle. Lucy was feeling the nerves crawl upon her legs and clenching its boney fingers in her throat. She was shaky as fuck trying to defend herself from parasites jumping out of the sand but with each one joining them she was losing this battle, mostly with her mind. Gage noticed her unusual moves, lack of confidence, something was indeed off but there was no time to talk. One of the worms managed to reach under her metal armor with its round jaws filled with hundred needles, biting into her shoulder blade in the back. She dropped to her knees, a fearful scream leaving her mouth just pushed her right hand man to shove more bullets into the crawling filth of this park. As he fended off the last of them he ran right to her, pulled the worm out of her back, ripping some of skin in the process. 

-Argh! That was so slow and gentle ugh. She groaned.

-Fuck, what the hell was that? What the fuck is wrong with you?! He was angry, demanded answers but she couldn’t speak, panting heavily, as she looked up and saw the familiar shadow, standing in front of her. Same one, over and over again, shaping into the man that was giving her orders 200 years ago.

 -“So weak, Feit. I’m disappointed”. He kicked her in the face, sending into unconscious state.  

Now Gage was not just angry but also worried. He noticed some unusual curly smoky shapes slowly fading in the air but assumed they were just radiation doings.  He threw her over the shoulder and carried to nearest shack sighting deeply.  They went through so much already, much worse, be it gators or glowing mirelurks but he still felt like she was hiding something or refusing to open up all of her secrets. 

---

A spiky sensation in the wound woke her up. It took more than one stimpack to make the blood start clotting with this one. Gage threw the empty syringe to the side and awaited in silence for her to stand up. He was calm but certainly not in the cheerful mood. 

- I…think, i need to tell you something more about… She started but the big palm of his hand grabbed her by the throat and pushed to the wall, cutting her sentence. 

- You think?! I fucking thought we trust each other at this point and that includes no motherfucking shit behind the back. He released her shortly, seeing her eyes widening in fear, not wanting to cause any more pain by pushing her to the wall but he didn’t back off. - And what the fuck is that? Dozens of calmex? Are you a fucking addict of sort and missed it at our lovely introduction last time? He pulled a bunch of syringes from the pocket that he stumbled upon while patching her up and put them aside on the broken table. Lucy was ashamed and sad, it was coming to her at one point, deciding it wouldn’t be such a big deal not to tell him about her phobia since bloodworms were pretty rare occurrence. Not this time tho.

 - Okay, fine! I use calmex very often. Got addicted to it even before the war, helps me to calm down, focus on many matters and when phobia kicks in. I’m sorry but i felt like its not that important and would just make me look i dunno… weak, Christ. She slipped down the wall slowly down landing on her ass and hiding her face with a hand. She wasn’t sure if to tell him about the shadow that haunts her as it would sound completely ridiculous to the simple man like Gage.  

- You looked pretty weak back there trying to hide it. Boss, while beating eaten slowly alive. I ain’t like too some shiet out there, fuckin bugs for instance, you should have told me something. He pulled a chair and sat in front of her leaning a bit forward. 

- It ain’t like that Gage, it’s paralyzing me, bringing those flashes from back when….the court decided to teach me a lesson. He popped open a bottle of nuka cola and handed it to her. Whatever sugar it has left will help her to boost up some energy. 

- Go on Boss…nothin to be ashamed off, get it out.  Seeing his surprising willingness to listen she continued after taking a sip. 

- I thought i was doing something good, wanted to deliver justice at every corner. It didn’t matter to me that the man i was defending had a crime past. He found out the court was corrupted, cops too, making up their own evidences and shit. He got pulled up there and i did what felt right, defended him. The judge…didn’t like it…i ended up in a dirty cellar, pulled out of my office and tortured. Gage crouched by her side and put the hand on her shoulder. 

- You don’t have to continue if its too much, Boss. He slowly raised her head with his fingers to look at her. She swallowed hardly yet another sip of cola.

- They said i needed my righteous bitchy mouth cleaned and they brought them….leeches, fucking hell, the disgust and pain… even if time went ahead two hundred years, for me it still feels so recent. Lucy left out a deep sad sight and looked raider in the eye. 

 - After that my..boss found out that calmex would calm me and dull the unnecessary memories and feelings during my jobs, making me more efficient and..i got addicted, pretty badly. Sorry i didn’t tell you, it just felt…stupid to share something like this. She pulled herself up, worried about his response but started putting her gear together, herself too. He stopped her by putting the hands on her hips and turning her around to face him.

- Hey we are in this together, our plan, fight, hell even fears included i don’t care what crap else, we are partners Boss. If u have a problem, we will fucking solve it, okay? I’m sorry for what happened to you, i truly am, fuck, but just…stop hiding shit from me, no matter how dumb it might feel for ya. Alright? They nodded at each other as an agreement and to her surprise Gage handed her back all the calmex syringes. - You will still need them here, that ain’t something u solve in one evening Boss but…we will get to that okay? Now let’s exterminate that shithole.

They came back, dirty from dust and blood, with a few bites too to the Fizztop but again successful, in the favor of Operators. As the drugs cleared out of Lucy blood system she rushed to the bathroom, ignoring the Gage’s yelling behind, pushing the door after her but still leaving an open crack. She had a strong urge to just take off her armor and clothes and scratch everything down with water from her. To her luck there was already one filled bucket under the sink. She undressed to her underwear and without hesitation grabbed a handle and threw it all over herself throwing the empty bucket aside. Gage heard all those noises and curiously peeked through the door small opening. She looked so desperate, rushing and harshly rubbing hands against her skin. Even the black dust around her eyes looked more dramatic than ever, smeared downwards and to the sides. He respected the boss privacy more than ever but this time it was just an act of care, reason, maybe something more that made him cross the line of the door. 

-Hey, its over. Just, shit,  try to calm down Boss. She stopped and looked at him, a bit embarrassed but slightly angry of being disrupted like that in the state she was. 

- I am calming down, right now, can’t ya fucking see?! She groaned but realized shortly he deserved a better response -Shit…sorry, i didn’t mean to snap at ya, you helped me get through back there but…i would like to be alone now. She sighted, grabbed her dumped clothes from the floor and slowly walked past him but his lower arm grabbing her around the waist stopped her. The pile of clothes flew from her hands down as he turned her around and pulled towards him.  

- No…that ain’t an option, not before i get to see that face back to its usual shape. He said with a low voice, almost growling, putting his other hand under her cheek, brushing his fingers through her wet hair.

- What the fuck are y--  He leaned to kiss her before she could ask anything more or worse, punch him in the face. Lucy decided to leave those two options for another occasion as her mind drifted off from the anger and stress, surprised by the raider move but fully committed to these few seconds.

- Shit. As Gage pulled off he expected at least a slap but her hands instead landed around his neck. His confidence allowed him only to stand still, looking down at her as he wasn’t really a man of many words, especially in these kind of situations.

- I didn’t expect you have it in you. She bit her lower lip. -You can go on, if you feel like. She raised her eyebrow at him letting a slight smirk twitch on her face. 

- Fuck..i do feel like, Boss. He grabbed her by the ass and pushed up. She allowed it, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him for another kiss, deeper and longer that round. Gage pushed her against the wall for better balance. 

They kept it for a while but raider didn’t cross the next line yet, didn’t want too and neither respect would allow him this time. He lowered her back as she pulled off. - You look better, Boss, especially with that blush of your face. He joked, trying to relax the atmosphere after, mostly for himself. 

- Thanks to you, i guess. She brushed her cheek and smiled, turning her head away.

They stood for a moment but Lucy decided to not ask any more questions, keeping these incidents as unprofessional as they can get and as much as he wanted to. Felt easier that way, not knowing what next day might bring.  

- You up for a small drink at patio before hitting the bed? She asked while gathering her clothes, scattered around the floor. 

- Actually, why the hell not, Boss. Business talk this time tho. He grinned and followed her to the patio. 

  The rest of the evening they indeed, drank and talked, sharing some more of their past and joking around. She felt good around him, safe even, slowly letting the thought of trust slip in and let her guard down at last. She drank down her last glass of booze before hitting him with last question. 

- Hey, can i sleep with you here, from now on? I still dislike open spaces like that but maybe with you around it will feel better. Gage paused, holding the glass at his lips putting it down slowly. 

- Do you mean fu...? 

- No, no. Just sleeping Gage, jezz. I will keep hands to myself too unless you feel like breaking some rules. She chuckled covering her smirk with a hand. 

- You better keep these hands away from my smokes. He joked back. - Okay, Boss, if you want to, i won’t kick you away, not on purpose at least.        

  It been hell of a time since they both slept with someone, sharing a pair of mattresses. Gage let her fall asleep first before he took down his eyepatch, wrapping it around his hand and turning his back to her. Lucy still kept her knife under the pillow but not for him this round.   

[achieverooster]

The Sacrifice (God!Ryan & Reader)

(Crossposted onto my AO3, MadQueen. Word Count: 1,416. Rated T for a few descriptions of violence.)

It was December 6. It was the day that your village sacrificed things to Ryan, the most bloodthirsty of the gods.

[[MORE]]

Many people sacrificed baskets of fruit, vegetables… the more affluent (or afraid) sacrificed animals.

When you woke up tied to a post at the God's shrine, you realized what had happened almost instantly. Realization coming over you rather quickly, albeit slightly muddled because of the fact your mother had slipped something into your soup last night in order to make this transition easier.

...Your parents decided that this year you would be their sacrifice.

Your hands hurt, your head hurts, and the animals bleating around you bring you no solace.

All of that left your mind the moment that the doors to the grand hall opened, revealing a figure at the end.

As the figure walked closer, you could make out more and more details from the torches that littered the walls.

You had never seen any of the gods before, only heard stories of their beauty and grace… and destructive habits.

The grand paintings of Ryan depict him with a cow pelt cloak, a golden cracked crown, with a head of hair that often gleamed with blood.

This can't be the man, the myth, the legend before you…

His face has all the attributes you'd seen in the various paintings, but the outfit he's wearing is nothing more than a loose fitting open ended garment at his waist and a white, fancy shirt. A black sort of shawl adorns his body, coming down to his waist.

He's a lot less menacing when he walks in, the sound of his steps echoing through the temple. He isn't at all what you had expected.

There is a golden crown adorning his head, the only thing that tells you that this man is in fact Ryan and not just someone who happens to look like the God.

Nobody else could afford the garment, the Gods constantly confiscated all of the gold for their shrines. Their towers.

His hands are around his back, and he walks with a stride that can only be described as confident and one that was born of regal blood. Back straight, his head back, chin up.

When Ryan looks at you his eyes show hunger, like a predator who has just set his eyes on his prey.

"My, my the village really splurged this year, haven't they?" Ryan says, his head tilting to the side as he eyes not only you but the handfuls of cows and sheep some other villagers have offered up. They fall on yours, and while you want to turn away, you feel that you can't.

He has striking blue eyes, although they don't glow like they seem to in all the myths.

Like this, he looks just… like a man. If you didn't know any better, you might be fooled.

As it is, your back straightens and your hands shake as you seem to remember where you are, what this all is.

Ryan sees you tense, he must (or maybe the stories of him tasting fear in the air like a snake were true?), because he lets out a small chuckle and throws his hands up, palms facing towards you in an attempt to appear less threatening. "There's no need to fear, young one." He says, his voice coming out in an attempt at being calming.

"Are you going to kill me?" Your voice shakes when you speak, but you can't help that. Not when you're in the presence of a God.

His head tilts, and the look he gives you is one born out of almost… pity. The way one might look at a lesser creature. "Why would I kill you?" Ryan took a step forward and gingerly reached out to one of the animals, a cow, and ran a calculated hand down the side of it's face almost lovingly.

That wasn't a question you had expected. He was turning the tables, prompting you to think. "Because…" Your eyes darted to where your hands are tied to the post above you. "Because I'm a sacrifice for you?" You say it like it's obvious because, well… it is.

It wasn't often that humans were sacrificed to the Gods, but you had heard stories of Ryan walking out of his temple with a trail of red and destruction left behind him.

"You clearly don't pay attention to Geoff's proclamation's, do you?" Ryan lets out a chuckle, and he lets the hand drop off the cow's face, and it slides down to your head.

You flinch before you can even think, and you remain silent as Ryan's hand tangles in your hair before letting it go, running his hands atop what it found. Ryan's hands were surprisingly gentle for a man with as much history as he had.

Ryan rolls his eyes when you don't offer up any answer or any inclination that you know what he's talking about, and so he speaks after a moment. "You villagers really do ignore the gods and choose to believe what you want to, huh?" He grumbles, getting down onto his knee in front of you in order to look at you eye to eye and his hand falls from the top of your head. "I'm temporarily barred from killing any humans I get for sacrifice. A murder break, as the others so lovingly put it." He tilts his head to the side, and his eyes wander away, like he were remembering something. "They say I've been too cruel in the past."

"The worst I could do is turn you into a servant or…" His eyes look down, down to your arms and legs before he snorts, amused at what he finds. "A solider. But I don't see that happening."

He stands back to his full height and cocks a head at you. "As it stands, though, I can't have you rotting away in some…" He looks around, at the grand temple dedicated to him. "Crypt." He decides on, looking at the tapestries and depictions of the Gods with distaste. You would call it blasphemy if he weren't one himself.

His eyes come back to you, and they focus on the chains constraining you. Ryan's hands reach out and a hand wraps around the chain holding you where you were, and with a twist of his wrist, it's broken.

Your hands fall, down to your side, but they still hold the shackles.

Even though he had clearly said he wouldn't hurt you, the show of strength has you still trembling in fear. The chain was forged steel, and no mortal man would be able to break them with such ease.

Looking at Ryan, the being with a golden crown adorning his head, you can very clearly see how he brought cities down to their knees, how he had men and women alike flock to worship him. He was strong. Unfathomablely so.

Ryan's eyes, once again roll when he sees you trembling. "I already told you I mean you no harm, does that mean nothing to you?" He says, as if he hadn't just ripped through steel like it was a blade of grass. He purses his lips, in contemplation. "I suppose I could allow you to return to your village, I'm sure that would go over well… or, you could come with me."

He reaches a hand out, one you can only assume is for you to take.

He was offering you help to stand up. A God was offering his help for you, specifically. A being with more blood on his hands than even the hungriest wolf or the strongest soldier in your village was offering his hand in assistance.

"Well?" Ryan asks, one eyebrow raising in question as he watched you in quiet contemplation. "Do you not trust me?"

No. No you did not. But even if you were to return back to your village, as a rejected sacrifice you'd be killed for the fear of the Gods bringing bad luck on your behalf... He had to know that.

Perhaps it would be a better experience than whatever Ryan could offer you. There's no saying what he would do to you if even half the stories were true.

The shackles on your wrist shook when you reached a hand forward, the jingling noise echoing through the grand halls.

Despite your better judgement, you took his hand and allowed him to help you up.

A dangerous smile grew onto his face. "Excellent."

[one-lonely-whumperfly]

What if Parrish killed Milan?

(This is in no way what actually happens in his story, but someone asked me once and I had to write it!)

Long blonde hair, streaked with red. Still in it’s ponytail, still dangling from the man’s hand.

Beautiful pink eyes, open wide in fear. Staring at nothing, glazed over. A tear still stuck in the corner, not fully developed. Mouth open in a plea cut off too soon.

Pale skin, a canvas decorated. Blue, green, purple bruises. Droplets of blood. Yellowing scars. A tragic rainbow. Heartbreakingly stunning.

Parrish looks down, breaths finally slowing as he calms down. Huffing, the ponytail falls from his hand, and the body crumples on the floor.

“Get up.” He orders, kicking Milan. No response. “Did you not hear me? Get up.” Another kick, no response. That’s when he notices Milan’s neck, in an unnatural position. The lack of movement from his chest. No trembling or whimpers.

“Milan? Milan, look at me. Don’t scare me like this.” Parrish kneels down, turning Milan’s head to face him. He feels along his neck. No heartbeat.

Red stains the floor, streaming from the back of Milan’s head. Parrish stares a few moments longer before rising, walking to the door and opening it. Several servants are waiting, no doubt attracted by the shouting and pleas that had been heard only moments ago. Pushing through the crowd is Ferrin. At the sight of the blood, he pales.

“Where is he?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Where is he?!” His eyes find the small body in the center of the room. “Milan! You killed him! You bastard, you fucking killed him!” Servants restrain him before he can attack his uncle, dragging him away. “You killed him!”

Parrish turns to the servants with a sigh. “Dispose of the body. I don’t care how.” He spares one last glance to his little dancer who will never dance again.

You shouldn’t have made me angry.

-----------

The servants kept Ferrin away until his uncle had left, gone to wash the blood from his hands. Ferrin, meanwhile, broke his hand when he punched the wall in anger. That’s all he felt, anger. Anger and pain and heartbreak…

“Master Ferrin.”

He looked over, holding his aching hand, though he barely felt it. “What?” He snapped at the servant, who didn’t seem fazed.

“He wants us to… dispose of him. We’re going to have a funeral, and thought you’d want to be there.”

Ferrin tensed slightly, but nodded. He followed them back towards the ballroom, looking at the servants and guards. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the small body on the ground. His knees felt like they would give out, but he wanted to be strong.

Milan almost looked to be sleeping, the servants must’ve adjusted him… by the time he was standing next to the blonde boy, everything came crashing down on him. He fell to his knees and broke down sobbing.

“Oh God, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he whispered over and over again.

One servant spoke softly to the others and gestured for them to leave, to prepare for the burial, then walked over to Ferrin. He placed a hand gently on his back, willing to move if asked. But it seemed to help.

“I should’ve stopped him, I should’ve–”

“Ferrin. It isn’t your fault. None of it is, and you know he wouldn’t want you to feel like that.”

He cringed and nodded weakly, turning his gaze back to Milan. The sweet, kind boy who would never laugh at another one of his stupid jokes, or flash a dazzling smile that made his heart stop… he sobbed again.

The servant finally touched his shoulder. “We… have to get him ready.”

“O-okay.”

Ferrin watched him clean the blood off and remove the chains from his bare chest. “W-wait a second.” Ferrin rushed out of the room and came back with a familiar looking grey and pink sweater. The one Milan had before he was brought here. “He… h-he likes this.” The servant smiled sadly and nodded, and they dressed him. Shakily, he reached his hand out and gently squeezed Milan’s. It hurt, not feeling him squeeze back.

In silence, they carried him out to the garden. They loved spending time here together… there was already a hole dug. Ferrin froze in place as he stared at it. Another servant took his place carrying the boy to the grave and placing him in. A prayer was said, more tears were shed, and Ferrin squeezed his hand one more time before he was buried.

Everyone left, except Ferrin and the servant from earlier. Ferrin cried until he had no more tears left. “I never even told him…” he whispered, voice trembling. A hand rested gently on his shoulder.

Finally, he stood and turned towards his uncle’s mansion. The pain and heartbreak faded, replaced with fury.

“I’m going to kill him.”

———

Ferrin ignored Parrish the rest of the day, which proved to be getting increasingly difficult as his uncle was seeking him out.

“He was just a slave. A decorative edition to parties. You really shouldn’t be so upset.”

Ferrin could hear the smirk in his voice, but he didn’t look over. Didn’t react. He silently gritted his teeth to conceal his anger.

“I’m going to bed.” He said simply, walking towards the door of the library.

“You don’t want to go down for dinner? I had the cooks make some blueberry pastries.”

Ferrin froze mid-step. Blueberry pastries. Milan’s favorite treat.

“…I’m not hungry.” He forced out and kept walking.

———

Night fell quickly, and Ferrin paced his room. He was going to do this. He was really going to do this.

“Ferrin.”

The servant’s voice startled him, and he looked over.

“Make sure you do it quickly, so you don’t get hurt.”

He nodded slightly. “…Marc, I need you to do me a favor.” He handed a small, crumpled note over. Marc read it, and immediately looked up to protest.

“Don’t. Just, just promise me you’ll do it.”

The servant nodded. “All right.”

Ferrin gave him a light smile and left the room.

———

He took Parrish completely by surprise. He snuck into his room and slammed a fist into his nose to wake him. Before Parrish uttered a word, Ferrin’s blade sank deep into his chest.

“That’s for Milan.” He growled, shoving even harder. Parrish struggled, thrashed, a glare in his eyes, then he stilled. No shout, no curse, no grand gesture, nothing. It was so satisfying.

He ripped the blade back out and stared at it. Wiping the blood off on Parrish’s clean white sheets, he started to walk, and didn’t stop until he was in the garden, kneeling next to Milan’s grave.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, placing his hand on the fresh dirt. “I know you wouldn’t want me to do this…” Taking a deep breath, he clutched the blade in a shaking hand. “But I can’t be without you.” He thrust the blade into his stomach with a gasp. His body trembled, vision blurring, and he laid back in the grass next to the grave.

As he stared at the patch of dirt next to him, just waiting through the pain for death, a figure suddenly entered his vision. It seemed that the more his vision blurred, the better he could see the figure. He gasped softly, and the blonde became crystal clear.

“Ferrin? What– what did you do?” Milan sounded worried, but for once, he didn’t sound pained. Ferrin didn’t remember standing, but soon enough he was hugging Milan as tightly as he could.

“I killed him.” That was all he said.

Milan hugged him back, but loosened enough to look at him. “But, why did you kill yourself? You could’ve stayed, could’ve made things better–”

“Not without you.” His voice cracked, and he held him tighter again. “I couldn’t live without you.”

———

As soon as the news got out, the elites in town wanted to bury Parrish. None of the servants had a problem with it, but refused to let Ferrin be taken with him.

Instead, they went to the garden and dug another hole, right next to Milan’s. Marc was the one to bury him and say a prayer. As the crowd dispersed, he looked down at the note one last time before placing it on the grave. It contained five simple words:

Bury me next to Milan.

“I kept my promise.” Marc said sadly as he walked away, leaving the two graves alone in the garden, surrounded by sunshine and beauty.

[coeurlkin]

Zealot, part one.

(an excerpt from a recent scene, featuring @fyrrdetelemagna) C'lai Nunh had chosen to travel once again through Ala Mhigo, in search for nuggets of imprinted techniques upon what feint remnants of aether existed. This time, he had followed a trail through meditation and communion... and the whispers had brought him to this place. The wind howled both distant and close... the occasional gust blown throughout the far chasm into the area with an imposing vigor. The flow of aether was stronger than in other places... and so, here is where C'lai chose to perform his meditating kata. With blades extended, each breath calling forth the very same wind... each step, like the call of thunder, aether manifesting in these two forms danced along the hulking miqo'te's kata, his martial poise as if enchanting the very flow of the elements to his grasp; the air motioned along with him, as if but a prolonging of his limbs, caressing the grass and making it sway with its stirring... lightning dancing erratically, as if trailing behind the man's blades and upper limbs. The air was charged with such aetheric forces, as if flowing through the man in conductive fashion... An aetheric meditating kata, bearing martial moves at imaginary foes. At the end of each one, a violent, yet controlled discharge - for such was the goal of the exercise... pristine control. What instability oozed from the releases, charred portions of the grass and dirt as jolts struck them; but these were like small grey and black dots spread about the chosen field.

Wyra'to Mhakaracca approaches slowly from the brush, announcing his presence by way of a slow clapping of his hands. It was always in these places which he'd find somebody lurking, somebody imitating the things he himself had gone through in his years... A form he recognised. C'lai was the mans name, the selfsame man he'd encountered within the ancient halls of the Schism over a summer ago. "Well, well, ain' we gettin' all fancy now, hm?" The clapping continued, the Keeper's tone oozing with what could pass for contempt. "Didn' expect t'see yuh wid Master Tigre, but now yer 'ere as well? Seems y'always end up lurkin' aroun', don'cha? but das what yer kinds good at, ain' it? Lurkin'." Step after step brings him closer until he comes to a stop atop one of the old slabs, bending one knee and leaning forwards onto it. "Y'talked alot 'bout lackin' gifts, but I'on think das th' case..."

C'lai Nunh's concentration brought to an abrupt halt by the incoming presence's voice, his kata ceasing, and arms slowly lowering as he turns his eyes at the other; focusing his attention upon the Keeper who bore a frame forged, too, for war. All senses had branded their perception of the man into memory, brows furrowing slightly at the words first spoken. His ears sharpened and tail curled briefly at the tip. He'd lift his chin proudly, retorting: "You tell me, whose kin lurrrks in the shadows of the Night, underrr dimmest manifestation of Azeyma's light." - he'd side smile lightly, a small huff through his nostrils: "Alas, the gifts I do have arrre not the blessing of Chakrrras... and as such, unfit forrr the Brrrotherrrhood. Yet you would know this, forrr we have crrrossed morrre than paths..." - the aether still jolted, as if but in a slow trickle attempting to dissipate from the man's grasp. He'd close his eyes then: "Worrrren is a good frrriend... and honourrrs me grrreatly by calling me brrrotherrr, as do otherrrs..." - and even though he said that, his expression was one of self-censure and sorrow.

Wyra'to Mhakaracca continues to speak through his mask, taking his hands away from his knee and rising back up to his full height. Steady, purposeful steps carry him closer to the edge of the cliff, his eyes focused on the horizon - or rather the lack thereof. "Well, das somethin' yer jus' gonn' need t'deal wid den, ain' it? Did y'ever try?" His tone shifts. One of pity. His posture remains unchanged, however, and he elaborates further. "Maybe s'a case'a yer faith wasn' strong enough, or maybe s'a issue wid yer body as th’ vessel, who knows... Dese are th' mysteries we's been left ta unravel, ain' dey?" Both hands move behind his body and clap together as his legs spread some, feet remaining planted firmly on the ground. "What would y'do? Would y'trade everythin' y'ave fer th' chance t'be like th' *Brothers* y'look up ta? Jus' what wouldja give?"

C'lai Nunh would close his eyes... he partly knew the reasons, and Wyra'to touched most of them. He'd keep his eyes on the other as he moved... and side smiled once he finished speaking: "Thinking on 'what woulds' and 'what ifs' is meaningless, and but detrrract focus upon my path. The legacy of my Arrrt is embrrraced... and with it, the achievement of enlightenment thrrrough the Sanctity of Combat." - he'd look towards the foggy horizon: "The Destrrroyerrr has given me anotherrr path, even if that not of the Fists. I would be ungrrrateful, werrre I not to see value in His trrrials." - he'd then look at Wyra'to: "No, Keeperrr... My path... My Arrrt, is my own, torrrn between the whims of two deities. Even if I could gaze upon the chance of Chakrrras... such desirrres arrre but a figment of a past long gone, and long accepted."

Wyra'to Mhakaracca keeps himself in place but lowers his voice some, inclining his head by a fraction. "D'ya really think deres nuh meanin' in lookin' at th' Ifs and Buts? If it weren' fer th' first'a us decidin' t'pay 'omage ta 'im Above, none'a us'd be where we are today, aye? If th' first among us didn' wonder 'bout th' *What If?* den th' entire world'd be a very diff'rent place... I understan' wha' yer sayin' though, ye've accepted yer state an' yer doin' what y'can t'make th' most'a it." Wyra’to shifts from his left foot to his right before centering his body off again, taking a deep breath inwards. He holds it, lets it sit in his lungs, lets it fill his body for a while before he pushes it all out. The cycle. Aether to them was like the air that they breathed, and to be starved of it? He couldn't begin to imagine. "We's nuh dat diff'rent, y'know? In dat I's still an' outsider ta dis whole Brother'ood thing... I carry th' sins'a me Mentor wid me until th' day I pass, an' only den will I know if dat were ever enough t'pay penance." The Keeper holds his position for but a moment longer before turning his head, glancing at C'lai. "Well, what wouldja 'ave us do, den?"

C'lai Nunh listened to the other... and though he found disagreement towards the man's words... he saw his view of things. To his Art... to lose focus would spell grievous injury, madness, or death - none of which he sought to attain... Not yet, at least. He'd take in a deep breath, and exhale slow and calm. As he did this, so did the aether move, sequestered by the man's Art of Combat still... He'd then look at the Sky in short contemplation, conclusions from what was said kept to himself, for he had seen stubbornness from the other, and from himself too. None of them would move from their view... and perhaps that is where their firmest similarity resided - opinions and life experiences that grounded them firmly into the beings they were today. He'd close his eyes and side smile: "Fate has brrrought you herrre forrr a rrreason... I say we unfurrrl Nymeia's intent, and answerrr to the Trrrial so carrrefully posed..."

Wyra'to Mhakaracca shakes his head some. "Nuh fate. Choice. I's of th' opinon dat jus' as th' Gods offer us trials, dey offer us choices as well... Y'ad th' choice t'either accept what y'was or t'try an' become somethin' greater. Every one'a us made dat choice, every single one. Some'a us paid more dearly fer it dan others." A slow turn on the spot is followed by a shift of his hands, one coming to rest inside of the other and level with his navel. Crimson and Gold pierced a veil of darkness to gaze directly into C'lai, to gauge him. Judge him, perhaps. "If yer lookin' fer combat? Den I's nuh one t'deny yuh yer chance t'step up an' prove yerself, as is me right t'choose t'engage yuh in dis. Rhalgr 'as offered me th' choice 'ere. Walk away or fight? I's choosin' th' latter." C'lai Nunh would then open his eyes, looking at the other and raising his chin proudly: "Then by all means, exalted Fist... exerrrt thy illusion of frrree will." - he'd then lower his chin, spreading his base, boot scraping the earth underneath him, as his arms adopt his usual martial posture; the same Wyra'to had seen in the Schism: "... Prrray not allow yourrr overrrconfidence to forrrce a step down on my parrrt. I would be rrremiss to taint memorrry of ourrr prrrevious dalliance..." - he'd jab back with his words at the other's perceived arrogance. His demeanour serene... the hulking frame that formed the man tensed, ears sharpening. Tail giving a swing left and right. The blades whose wielding arms crossed in front of the man raged into life, as lightning began brimming in small and wide arcs, from air, into the man's flesh, and along his limbs. The wind began circling in his vicinity, as noted by the motion of the vegetation... Aether and elements responding to the man as if connected in the purest of forms to his body and mind. His emerald hues encircling pale pupils brimming as the usual glimmer intensified. The noise of static and thunder giving their first deafening clarions.

Wyra'to Mhakaracca narrows his gaze and focuses on C'lai. Not just the man, but the gestalt beliefs that made him into what he is. "Free will ain'a illusion, y'truly underestimate th' importance'a what I's said." Regardless, the time had come to be about it. One foot pushed outwards in a semicircular motion through the dirt and grass whilst both his knee's bent, his left leg staying still whilst his right stretched outwards. The Keeper adopted a low stance as his fingers and thumb curled inwards to give his hands the shape of a set of fangs. He too drew upon aether - not solely his own, but rather than around him as his gates flared into life, drawing energies that had been otherwise in a state of quiescence into him. Just like breathing,. In and out. The practiced exertions of a man who was sure of his craft. His body lowers further, the air around his hands blazing into life and taking an all too familiar shape; that of two blazing, sneering coeurlheads. "Come den, let us answer yer question..."

[maybemitch]

ARE YOU WITH ME (MITSIM)

DESCRIPTION: Mitch is injuried and taken to Delta. Aasim has to attend to his wounds.

WARNING: AU, Mitch lives. Blood. Swearing.

WORD COUNT: 4290

━━━⋆☆⋆━━━

The courtyard was a small war zone, the picnic tables were turned, creating a small walkway on the crack cobblestone road, where the raiders stood. The gate was busted, the barricade which was pushed against it now tossed to the sides. On the patch of grass the flagpole was located at, three makeshift scarecrows sat stabbed into the ground, the decaying walker head had bluebottle flies hovering above them, intrigued with the smell

Clementine was keeping the raiders preoccupied, holding them at arrow point whilst Willy and Mitch snuck behind the cart, placing the bomb down.

Aasim wasn’t keen on the idea, he didn’t like that Mitch and Willy were risking their lives to cause a distraction. He didn’t like the potential risk of losing them both, especially when the raiders had weapons. Aasim peered slightly over the wall, automatically ducking his head when a raider turned towards him, his heart erratic in his chest.

Aasim clenched his eyes shut, the sound of footsteps hammering down on the floor made him panic internally, however his nerves were soothed when he saw the shaggy hair of Willy and the brunette fringed hair of Mitch appeared next to him.

Mitch found himself sitting besides Aasim, his back also pressed against the half brick wall. He turned to face Aasim, a small smile on his lips. Mitch moved over, pressing his lips to Aasim’s cheek.

“Told you I’ll make it back in one piece,” Mitch spoke in a hushed whisper, “You should’ve trusted me.”

Aasim smiled at Mitch, “I did trust you. I didn’t trust the raiders.”

Mitch gave another smile as he slightly flinched when the explosion went off. Mitch could smell the smoke in the air as he moved from where he was sitting out into the open, wanting to inspect the area in more detail.

Orange embers danced in the sky, from where the explosion went off. Smoke went high into the sky, as if it was sending a signal to someone.

“Whatever you’re thinking about,” Aasim whispered over to his boyfriend. His words were soft and welcoming, a tone Aasim always used when speaking to Mitch. Aasim still had his back pressed against the crumbling half-brick wall, his head turned ever so slightly, yet his eyes were sharp as they lingered on the bomb loving boy, “Don’t you dare do it.”

Mitch was crouched in the opening, close to the support beam on the shelter they were fighting from, his hands were on the floor, giving him more stability. His gaze fluttered to Aasim, the look of distress was plastered all over his boyfriend’s face, his heart twinged in a slight pain, he had always hated that look from Aasim.

Mitch turned his gaze to Tennessee for a brief moment, the woman behind the boy began to get to a stand. One fist balled as he shook his head, he opened his mouth.

“Cover me,” Mitch ordered the people behind cover, most of the other teens nodded their heads and ready themselves for whatever was about to happen. Aasim bit down on his lip, a hand extending trying to grab ahold of Mitch before he did anything reckless and dangerous. Mitch looked to Aasim and the boys open hand and gave a small smile, “I’ll be safe, just have my back.”

Aasim let out a shaky breath, before nodding his head ever so slightly. It was a small movement, something everyone could have missed if they weren’t paying attention. Luckily, Mitch was.

Mitch gave him a small reassuring smile, “Trust me, Aasim. I’ll make it back in one piece.”

Mitch pulled himself up into a stand, Aasim snatched up his bow which was resting on the floor and loaded the weapon with an arrow. Aasim peered over the wall, watching intently as he got his arrow trained on Mitch. He had his back, now matter what.

Mitch ran at a small jog to begin with, his hands free off weapons. After a few small steps in the jog, he broke out into a sprint. Mitch let out a small shout as he got closer to Lilly.

Mitch could see the knife in Lilly’s belt, that what he needed. He paced quicker, Lilly got up into a stand her hand being to wrap around her blade.

Shit. Mitch thought as he began to run faster.

Lilly turned to face the boy, bringing the knife out in self defence, jerking it in Mitch’s direction, mainly towards his neck.

Mitch’s hand went up, grabbing ahold of Lilly’s wrists, his grip was strong as he tried to overpower the women. Lilly kept trying to push the blade closer to Mitch’s neck, however, Mitch pulled the knife away from his neck, leaving it above his shoulder, his grip loosening.

Lilly took that as an opening, lunging the knife forwards into Mitch’s shoulder, a small splatter of blood coated her face. Mitch staggered back, his shoulder throbbing. Mitch knew Aasim was probably scared right now.

Mitch groaned as he grabbed the knives handle and pulled it out. Lilly took a step back as Mitch took a step forwards. The woman was defenseless right now and even if Lilly didn’t want to admit it, she was quite scared right now.

Mitch took another step towards the women, but was interrupted by a loud bang. A shoot pain went through his abdominal and a wet substance started to coat his T-shirt.

“Mitch!” Aasim gasped, when Mitch fell to the floor, holding his abdominal. Aasim went to run over to his boyfriend, wanting to hold him in his pain, but an arm tugged at him, keeping his at bay.

“You’ve got to stick to the plan,” Louis whispered to Aasim. Louis knew Aasim was in a panicked state, Louis would try and calm him down, but Louis knew it would be difficult considering the circumstances.

Aasim gulped and shook his head no, “I… I can’t. M-Mitch. I need to go help him,” Aasim tried to pull his arm out from Louis’ grip, Aasim kept shaking his head, “Please Lou. I need to go to him. Please let me go to him.”

Louis slowly released his grip from Aasim, “O-okay. I’ll make sure no raiders get to you. Promise.”

Aasim turned to smile at Louis, “Thank you.” Aasim looked at Louis for a moment, before turning away, making his way slowly out to a bleeding out Mitch.

/———\

Aasim awoke when painful hand gripped tightly at his shoulders, yanking him to his feet. His head was thumping, whilst a trail of warm oozing blood trickled down the left side of his face. A muzzle of a shotgun was pressed to Aasim’s lower back, sending him rigid. His breath caught in his throat, the undeniable fear running through his veins. They’re going to shoot him.

“Move,” a guard sneered from behind him, the sound of the safety being clicked off sent shivers down Aasim’s spine. The guard pressed the muzzle harder into Aasim’s spine, their finger resting lightly on the trigger, “Or else.”

Aasim released a shaky breath and gave a brief nod, before walking inside of the boat. The shotgun was making his nervous, yet, he had to do as he’s told unless. Underneath the feet of Aasim and the guard, the floorboards creaked, a sign that the wood was beginning to rot from old age and constant water exposure.

Aasim’s brown eyes analysed the area, a small rounded silver table was situated to the right of the banister, a pile of poker chips in the middle and playing cards lay down with the numbers facing the table; whoever was playing must have left the game in a hurry. There were boxes piled against the wall, a few gas powered lamps resting on top, sending the room an awful yellow tinge. There were also several brown empty beer bottles on the floor, most of them rolling around whenever a wave hit the boat which was docked at the pier.

Aasim stumbled over a nail which stuck out on deck. His arms jerking out before him, ready to prevent himself from colliding with the floor, yet he never fell. The guard behind him rolled his eyes and snatched the jacket which belong to Aasim’s tightly, yanking him back up. The guard moved his hand to Aasim’s upper arm, holding him tightly. Aasim winced at the hand, before snatching his arm out of the vice grasp.

“Stop.” The guard ordered, as they turned to face the first cell door on the left. Their hands wrapped around the lock, snatching the door open. Their hands grabbed Aasim’s jacket, pulling him backwards so he was aligned with the door and pushed him in. “Sit there,” the guard snapped, slamming the door shut, locking it back up, their eyes staring Aasim down, “And shut up. That’s if you know what’s best for you.”

Aasim groaned from the impact of hitting the floor, a small splatter of blood stained the wood from where his head hit the floor. Aasim began pushing himself up, turning his head sending a bitter glare towards the guard which stood with a smirk behind the locked door. The guard locked eyes with the boy momentarily, then turned on his heels, going to collect the next teen.

Aasim sobbed silently as he began to crawl slowly to one of the corners, his heads sore, a minor graze on his palms. Once in the corner, Aasim turned around, pressing his back to the wall, the wallpaper being to curl from the bottom. He leaned his head back upwards towards the ceiling, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip in fear and frustration.

Aasim couldn’t believe it. Delta had basically won. For now at least.

He brought his knees to his chest, then lowered his head to them, resting it on them. His hands wrapped around the back of his neck, leaving them there as he began tugging a few strands of hair.

Mitch. He though. Oh, God. Mitch. He was stabbed and shot. Aasim couldn’t help but worry over his boyfriend, he always worried over him. Even when Mitch went hunting or when he played with his carving knife, Aasim always worried over Mitch. He was just thankful he wasn’t dead, he wouldn’t know what to do if Mitch was gone, he probably wouldn’t be able to function correctly without him, Mitch was his rock most of the time.

Aasim stuffed when he heard footsteps and groans from outside the cell… footsteps… plural. It sounded like their was only two guards this time round, which was unusual considering Aasim, Violet and Omar only had one guard with them. Therefore, curiosity spiked a little in Aasim, causing him to sit still and listen, too scared to move.

Outside, the two guards walked down towards the cells, holding an unconscious male in their arms. Their eyes were coated with disapproval as a sticky crimson substance laced with uniform.

One of the guards huffed as they pulled at the unconscious male, “He’s too heavy. Why did the sniper get his abdominal? They should’ve just went for the head.”

The other guard scoffed and replied harshly, “Lilly didn’t want to kill the kids. We need recruits, not body bags.”

“So why did we bring him? He's of no use to us if he’s injured.” The first guard admitted, beginning to open the door to Aasim’s cell, “He’s going to die of blood loss and we aren’t wasting supplies on him.”

“He tried to kill Lilly,” the second guard told, they witnessed everything back at the school, “He has the potential to be a soldier. That’s why he’s with us. He heals on his own, we train him. We send him to war. It doesn’t matter if he dies out there. It’s better him than us.”

The first guard let out a chuckle as their face broke out into a grin, they placed their hand on the wound on the boy’s shoulder and shoved them into Aasim’s cell.

Their body crashed to the floor, an excruciating sob fell from their lips at the impact. Both guards let out a sadistic chuckle at the boy in cowering in pain. Aasim scowled at the people; they couldn’t see him luckily. The sound of footsteps pounding down the deck caused Aasim to crawl over to the body tossed into his cell.

His heart split into two as he blinked, taking in Mitch who was sickeningly pale. His lips wobbled, as he hesitantly moved his right hand. His right thumb brushed against Mitch’s cheek gently. Mitch groaned at the touch, and began to lean away in his unconscious state, before a small whimper left his lips as too much pressure was applied to his abdomen.

“What did they do to you?” Aasim whispered, his hands moving to cup Mitch’s face, despite his boyfriend moving away from the contact moments ago. Aasim’s hands shook as he slid them down Mitch’s face and down to the stab wound on his left shoulder; it wasn’t too deep, but still could end up getting infected if not looked after.

His hands slowly lowered down Mitch’s body, down to the relatively large blood pool on the right side of the abdomen, caused by a sniper bullet. Aasim’s hands were wet with blood as he clenched at Mitch gunshot wound, Aasim knew there was an exit hole, mainly because the small pool of blood beneath Mitch. That’s a good sign at least.

“Mitch…” Aasim mumbled, his hand applying pressure to the gunshot wound, trying to restrict the blood flow, “Don’t die on me…” his voice cracked, words weak, water brimming in his eyes, threatening to send salty tears down his face, “Please… Please don’t die on me. W-wake up…”

Mitch mumbled something in his unconsciousness, then released a small hiss of pain, which caused Aasim to frown, “Mitch… Stay with me okay. Please. Just stay with me…”

Aasim leaned back on his feet, his hands still resting on Mitch’s wound. He looked around the room, the scruffy bedsheet on the camp bed caught his eyes; it could be used for bandages. The bedsheet wasn’t exactly clean, yet they would be able to soak up the blood until they get home to Ericson, if they get home to Ericson.

He sighed, “I just need to find something to clean the wounds,” he mumbled as he pressed harder onto Mitch. Aasim knew he wouldn’t find disinfectant in the cell, Delta wouldn’t allow it. Delta wouldn’t allow if Aasim asked for it, they even said so when they were bringing Mitch down. “Water would work,” Aasim whispered, his eyes shifting to the door, “But I’ve got to ask… shit.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, removing his hands from Mitch and pushed him to his feet. He took a deep breath and walked over to the door, his blood red hands wrapped around the bars, giving them a shake, causing the sound of metal hitting metal to bounce around the room.

A guard groaned from outside and marched to the door, their shotgun held high as they aimed it at Aasim through the metal bars, “What?” They spat, “I told you to shut up if you knew what was best for you. Or do you need to be taught a lesson?”

“I… I need water,” Aasim whispered, his eyes looking at the guard, “I just need water.”

“Water?” They asked, taking a step back to look down the hall, as if they were looking, “Why do you need water?”

“I’m parched.” Aasim bluntly said, “That's why I need water.”

“Someone get Lilly,” the guard ordered to someone down the hall, before turning their attention to the male, “You’ll speak to the boss. She’ll be the one which determines if you get your drink or not.”

Shit. Aasim thought. He wasn’t expecting the guards to get Lilly involved, he didn’t want that. Especially considering Lilly was one of the people which harmed Mitch. Aasim didn’t want Lilly anywhere near his boyfriend.

The sound of walking boots clicked down the hall, Aasim’s heart began to race in his chest and his ears began to ring. Aasim took a deep inhale when Lilly appeared at the door, a scowl on her lips. She wasn’t impressed with Aasim at all.

“What is it?” Lilly asked, her arms crossed over her chest. Aasim’s eyes were trained onto the guard standing behind the woman, who still held the gun up high. Lilly followed his gaze, tutting when she looked at one of her soldiers, “I can handle him, stand to the side.”

“As I said to the guard,” Aasim began, looking Lilly in the eyes, “I’m parched. So can I please have some water.”

Lilly bent down, unlocking the door. Aasim took a step back, standing protectively besides Mitch’s unconscious body. Lilly entered the small cell, crossing her arms over her chest, her lips twisting into a sadistic smirk, “You’re not thirsty, you want to save your boy toy.”

Aasim mimicked Lilly, his arms over his chest, “He’s not my boy toy,” his words were harsh, as he slightly rolled his eyes, “And it's not for him. I’m parched.”

Lilly took a step forwards, “Are you sure?” She questioned quietly, cocking her head to the side slightly, “You don’t want to clean his wounds? You don’t want to treat his fever? You don’t want to make sure he lives?”

Aasim bit down on his lip, looking at the woman before him. Lilly chuckled, taking a step forward again, beginning to close the gap between her and the teen, “If he’s,” her eyes linger down to Mitch, who’s forehead was beginning to be matted with sweat, “Not attended to in the next twenty minutes or so, an infection will set in, his body will fight it but he will be too weak. And do you know what that means?”

Aasim gulped, “W-what does it mean?”

Lilly sighed, “It means his body will stop fighting it, allowing the infection to overtake. Eventually turning into a walker. And you’ll have to be the one which will have to bash his brains in as you’ll be locked in this room alone with him.”

“H-he’s not going to die.” Aasim stumbled over his words, uncrossing his arms, fist balling. Aasim was letting anger overtake him, “I-I won’t let him.”

“You’re not going to let him die?” Lilly asked, eyebrow arching, “How are you going to save him?”

Aasim sighed, his eyes clenched shut before a soft plea passed through his tight lips, “Please. Please can I have some water.”

Lilly smiled, she had finally gotten what she wanted to hear, “Why?”

“So… so I can clean his wounds,” Aasim reopened his eyes looking up to Lilly, “So I can make sure he lives,” a tear slowly rolled down his cheek, Lilly chuckled softly at the sight of it, “Please, let me have some water. I… I can’t lose him.

Lilly looked down the male on the floor and shook her head, “What’s in it for me?”

“What?” Aasim asked confused, recrossing his arms.

“It’s a simple… deal. I give you something, you’ve got to give me something in return,” Lilly explained, beginning to lean up the wall, “So, what’s in it for me?”

Aasim turned slightly, looking down at Mitch then back to Lilly, “What do you want?”

“I want your word,” Lilly said, “I want your word that you’ll fight the war. That you won’t let your relationship get in the way. That if you lose him, you’ll cut your losses and be a soldier.”

Aasim scoffed, “So what you’re trying to say is that you want me to be an emotionless asshole like you?” His words were harsh, the end of the sentence was spat out, “What you want is me to forget my boyfriend of two years, if he dies fighting your war?”

Lilly tutted, “That's no way to speak to your new leader. But yes, that’s exactly what I want you to do. You want the water, you’ll give me your word.”

“Fuck you,” Aasim spat, shaking his head, “No. I’m not giving you my word.”

Lilly frowned, pushing herself off the wall and opening the door to leave, “Well, I guess you’ll have to say your goodbyes now then. He’s not going to make it.”

Aasim watched as the door shut behind Lilly. Aasim’s knees buckled as he dropped down to the floor, a small cry leaving his lips. He slipped his hand into Mitch’s giving it a small squeeze. Aasim couldn’t. He couldn’t give his word to Lilly. Aasim didn’t want to cut his losses if he lost Mitch in the war. Aasim didn’t even know if they’d make it to the war, Clementine could be coming to get them.

Aasim moves from his knees and sat down on the floor, he slowly pulled Mitch up, resting his boyfriend’s head on his lap. He laced his fingers through Mitch’s hair, soft assuring words fell from his lips as tears kept brimming in his eyes.

Mitch mumbled something in his unconscious state which made a sad chuckle pass through Aasim’s lips as a tear fell, landing on Mitch’s face. Aasim was quick to wipe it away.

“You’re going to be okay,” Aasim whispered, his hands moving to cradle Mitch’s face. His heart was still aching at the sight, “You hear me, you’re going to be okay.”

Mitch mumbled something softly again, Aasim arched an eyebrow at him as he sniffed, “What are you talking about, Mitch.”

“I love him,” Mitch mumbled in his unconscious state, now his words were more clearer, it gave Aasim hope he was coming round. Mitch’s head tilting into Aasim’s hands, his lips pressing against them, “Huh?”

Aasim looked down to Mitch, curiosity filled his eyes and his heart began racing in his chest. He preferred his heart racing then aching.

“What do you mean who?” Mitch mumbled, a small hiss of pain left his lips. “M-my boyfriend. A-Aasim. I love Aasim.”

Aasim’s heart leaped in his chest. Mitch loved him. It was the first time Mitch had ever said it, the first time either of them have said it. Neither of the boys wanted to rush their relationship, they wanted to take their time, they wanted to ensure they didn’t mess up.

Aasim released a shaky breath, his fingers tugging at Mitch’s hair before removing his boyfriends head from his lap and standing back up, moving over to the door. He stuck his hand out giving it a small wave, Lilly walked back down.

“Still thirsty?” Lilly cackles, crossing her arms when Aasim pulled his arms back into the cell, “Or are you asking for something to bash his brains in.”

“No.” Aasim gulped, “I’m… I’m giving you my word.”

“What changed your mind?” Lilly asked as she waved her hand down the hall, signalling someone to get her a bottle of water.

Aasim sighed, “It’s none of your business.”

Lilly huffed, her hand holding tightly on a bottle which was handed to her. She raised an eyebrow at Aasim, waving the bottle in front of his face, mockingly, “Tell me what changed your mind, soldier.”

Aasim looked up to Lilly and gave a deep sigh, “I… I love him and… and he mumbled that he loves me too.”

Lilly handed the bottle to him, a smirk on her lips, “Young love. Just remember, you gave me your word. He dies, you move on.”

Aasim nodded and turned around quickly. He snatched the scruffy bed sheets off the camp bed and dropped down to besides Mitch. He looked over his boyfriend, biting down on his lip. How was he going to do this?

“Mitch,” Aasim whispered, as he grabbed his boyfriend from underneath his arms, pulling him up with all his strength so he was sitting up the wall. “I’m sorry if this hurts.”

Aasim pulled Mitch’s jacket off his body, throwing it to the side before giving a sigh when he saw Mitch’s shirt sticking to his wounds. Aasim licked over his dry lips, then began removing Mitch’s shirt.

Mitch groaned when the shirt was removed.

“It’s okay,” Aasim hushed as he tore apart of the bed sheets, beginning to use it as a wipe. He poured a small drop of water on the fabric and then began to dap at the wound on Mitch’s shoulder.

Aasim concentrated on cleaning the wound, he wasn’t a nurse, he didn’t know how to do this like Ruby, but he had seen her clean other kids wounds, so he had something idea on it. Aasim bit down on his lip as dropped the blooded rag, he snatched up the other part of the bed sheet and wrapped it around a Mitch’s shoulder, creating a bandage.

Mitch groaned when Aasim pushed down on the wound. A tear in the corner of his eye.

Aasim frowned, “Just one more,” he reassured as he began repeating the actions from before. He poured the water, dapped the wound and held it there for a moment.

Aasim removed the rag, beginning to wrap the bed sheet around Mitch’s waist tightly, covering the wound securely. The bullet wound was much more worse than the stab wound.

“You’ll be okay,” Aasim whispered when he was finished patching Mitch up. Aasim moved to besides him, pressing his back to the wall. Aasim slipped his hand into Mitch’s as he then rested his head on his uninjured shoulder.

“And for the record, I know you can’t hear me,” Aasim whispered, licking his lips over in nerves, mainly incase Mitch hears him, “But I love you too,” Aasim squeezed Mitch’s hand tightly, “So much. So please… wake up and stay with me.”

[badwolf-in-the-impala]

~The Cripple and The Bastard~

~Chapter 3: Blood, Sweat & Steel~

Previous parts: ((Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3 - Ch.4 - Ch.5 - Ch.6  ))

Image Credit: badwolf-in-the-impala

Pairings: Ivar the Boneless x OFC

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Verbal/physical abuse, violence, kidnapping, scars, sexual content

Chapter Warnings: Abuse, suggested beating/whipping, mentioned thoughts of suicide.

A/N: Thank you guys for all the love lately! I appreciate every single one of you and can never say thank you enough! I just hit 1K FOLLOWERS, so stayed tuned for some exciting things :D

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Yara awoke the next morning to the dull aching throb of too much drink. A groan leaving her lips as she sat up, pushing the furs aside as she stood, giving s small stretch as she grabbed her work clothes. She washed and got dressed before preparing a small meal for her father and laid out his own clothes for the day. Noting that he was still sleeping heavily, and would probably remain that way for several more hours; if not the entire day. Not that she minded the days he didn’t show up to work...but Gods help her if he showed up in a foul mood. 

Tidying up her bed, she took her leave as she stepped out into the brisk morning air, relishing in the stillness and quiet of the morning. Watching as the sky started to gradually lighten, the sun making it’s ascent from behind the mountains and into the sky as it woke for the day. But judging by the clouds that gathered along the horizon, she knew there would likely be a storm before the days end. 

Pulling the furs around her shoulders a little tighter, she set off for the forge. Enjoying the last few moments of early morning silence before the rest of Kattegat awoke to start their day.

She had been at the forge for several hours, working tirelessly, before her father finally stumbled in. No-doubt still drunk from the night before as she took in his disheveled appearance, noting he still wore the previous days clothes and reeked of ale and sex. Yara frowned as he fumbled around, making a mess of things before finally settling on crafting a new blade for a dagger. 

She continued to work quietly, hoping that if she pretended to be invisible, he wouldn't notice, nor remember that she did not arrive home until well after he had; and she succeeded for a time, before what was left of his drunken haze had faded and his usual rage filled demeanor had returned, almost in the blink of an eye.

"Where did you run off to, last night?" It was a demand, more than it was a question. His voice eerily calm, sending a chill down her spine as she made pause in hammering on the piece of steel she'd been working with. "Well?!"

"I decided to show myself around." She shrugged, completely unaware of how close he had gotten. "I figured it would not be a prob-" The sharp sting of his hand connecting with her face caught her off guard. The blow knocking her back and sending her crashing to the ground as the familiar taste of metal filled her mouth. Wincing, she touched the corner of her lip lightly drawing her hand away to reveal crimson tinged finger tips.

"Have I not warned you enough about lying to me!" He seethed, face dangerously close to her own as his fingers locked themselves around her throat, lifting her to eye level as she struggled for a breath of air; boots barely touching the ground. 

"I will not have you playing the whore like your mother did!" He spat. "I saw you leave with that Lothbrok boy." His voice had become a low growl. "You think you are worthy of their affections?"

"We...d-didn't...do...any...thing!" She gasped, struggling to speak as his grip tightened around her throat.

"You better hope for your sake that is true, Whelp!" He snarled, hand releasing her from his grasp as she dropped to the ground, gasping for air. Her own fingers gently prodding the area she could already feel beginning to bruise. 

"Get out of my sight." She did not wait around to be told twice as she exited the forge, the door slamming closed behind her as she tried to avoid the stares and whispers as she quickly made a break for the treeline where she knew no one would bother her; at least for awhile. Especially her father, who's mind she knew could change at any given moment. It was best to simply become invisible for a while until she knew he was to far gone again to care and punish her any further. 

If her luck was fortunate enough.

She broke through the treeline into the clearing in which she had been the previous night. Making her way for the cliffs edge where she stood over looking the water, drawing in a deep, shaky, breath of fresh air. Wincing as the action made her throat feel as though it was alight with fire. 

Tears of anger brimming her eyes as she brushed away at them them away furiously. Was this really to be her fate? Day in and day out for the rest of her miserable life? Or at least until her father died...'cause Gods know she would never Marry if he continued to have his way.

A quiet sob escaped her lips as she glanced down, staring past her boots over the cliffs edge into the waters below. The many times she had thought about disappearing forever...how simple it would be to just close her eyes and hand herself over to Gods. One simple step. No more pain, no more suffering, but something within her heart always stopped her. Even now, as she peered over the edge, heart beating furiously against her rib cage, as if it were a caged bird that begged to be set free...longing for it’s release. 

A rock caught the toe of her boot and rolled over the ledge, watching as it tumbled into the dark waves below. Swallowed up by the water, never to be seen again.

'So easy...' Her mind whispered.

Yara took a step back and sat down in the grass, pulling her knees against her chest and resting her forehead against them a steady raindrops began to fall from the dark clouds that had gathered overhead. Hiding the silent tears that slipped from her green eyes and tracked down her cheeks as she looked up, watching as a bolt of lightning stuck across the sky off in the distance, followed by a rumble of thunder that sounded as if Thor himself could appear before her at given moment; the rain picking up pace. Falling now in almost blinding sheets as she closed her eyes, tilting her face toward the sky as she relished in the feel of it against her skin. Wishing it was possible for the passing storm to wash her sorrows away.

"Gods..." She whispered, shaking her head as she looked out over the dark water, the rain almost blinding by this point as it ran into her eyes. "Help me? Even if I do not deserve it...’fore I do not know how much longer I can bare this."

The day had faded well into evening before Yara managed to find her way back into the village. Completely soaked with rain and freezing as the breeze had picked up, seeming to blow right through her as she wandered the streets. Noting from a distance that her father was no longer at the forge, she ducked inside in an attempt to dry off and pick up the mess he had left behind. 

She ignored the sounds of work from the far end, assuming it was simply one of the other blacksmiths or villagers that was finishing up their work for the day. Paying no mind to the presence until the sounds of working had stopped and she became all to aware that she was being approached from behind. Her hand gripping the handle of the dagger that lay in front of her on a the work bench she had been busy clearing off. 

Rounding in one swift motion, dagger in hand as the movement behind her stopped, she was taken by surprise as he feet were taken out from underneath her. her back colliding harshly with the floor as all the air rushed from her lungs. A familiar strong hand plucking the dagger from her grasp as mischievous blue eyes came into her view. 

A small growl passed Yara's lips as she glared up at Ivar.

"It is nice to see you too." He replied with a smug grin as he examined the dagger he had taken from her hand. Yara said nothing in return as she sat up, rubbing at the back of her head where it hit the floor. "Did you make this?" She glanced down as he held the dagger back out for her to take. Those intense blue eyes trained on her face, falling briefly to her lips for a moment he frowned, noting the split the graced the lower left corner of her bottom lip.

"Yes." She stated as he brought his gaze back to hold her own, briefly, as she snatched the dagger out of his hand and got to her feet. Placing the dagger back on the bench before she finished cleaning up. Silence falling over them as he simply watched her move about the forge.

"The craftsmanship is impeccable." He added, pulling himself up onto a crate as he watched her stare out the door. Observing how tense her body language was, like that of a deer that was prepared to bolt at the first sign of movement. She turned to look over her shoulder with one eyebrow cocked, almost as if she was gauging whether or not her was being serious, finally nodding in acknowledgement as she closed the door. Walking over to pick up the half finished dagger that sat on the Anvil where Ivar had been working. Examining it closely --noting the struggle that had taken place in hammering it out-- before bringing it to him and holding it out.

"Heat the metal more before taking the hammer to it...it makes the steel more pliable." Her tone was soft, indicating she meant to be helpful.

"Perhaps you can give me a demonstration." He smirked; tongue darting out across his lower lip, followed by teeth. Chuckling as she glanced away awkwardly.

"Some other time perhaps." She replied. "I...should be going..." Her words trailed off quietly as her attention returned to the entrance of the forge, contemplating just exactly where she could go that wasn't home. But Ivar nodded, taking the hint as he crawled for the door, pausing just outside as he turned to look at her.

"If you do not wish to return home...you are more than welcome to follow." Frowning as he saw that her gaze had fallen on something in the distance. Ivar turning slightly to catch sight of the Blacksmith. Anger forming a sudden knot in the pit of his stomach as she shook her head in response before quickly closing the door behind her.

"I must return home...but, thank you, for the offer." She forced a half hearted smile in return, composing herself as she walked in the direction of her home. A growl leaving Ivar's throat at the thought of her having to suffer that wretched mans company. It wasn't his place to care, but he did and he hated it. He hated him...he hated her. Or at least he tried his damnedest to tell himself that he did.

More than two weeks had passed since Ivar had last seen Yara at the Forge. Ragnar having inquired about her absence after his youngest sons mention of her absence one evening. Her father claiming that she had fallen ill and was recovering at home. Forbidding her to have visitors, but having made no attempt at contacting the villages healer. 

It had been setting wrong with him for several days now. His own father simply shrugging it off, repeatedly telling Ivar that it was not their place which only further infuriated his already perpetually angry son. Generally resulting a long heated argument that would end with Ivar crawling off in a heated rage. But today, he found himself watching the forge from afar. Absentmindedly twirling a throwing knife around his finger as he watched the man. Waiting until he was engrossed in his work before taking his leave in the direction of the mans home. 

Arriving some time later he knocked on the door, waiting for several minutes but never receiving an answer. Ivar growled in frustration, knocking several more times before finally opening the door and pulling himself inside. A well aimed boot colliding with the back of his head, earning it's thrower a startled yelp as he turned with a glare.

"Are you not aware that it is rude to enter someone's home without being invited." The girl stated, furs clutched to her naked chest as she reached for an overshirt. Ivar quick to turn back towards the door, feeling his ears grow hot out of embarrassment. "You can look now." She huffed out in a frustrated tone, Ivar turning slowly as he watched her sink onto the bench by the door in front of him. Exhaustion evident on her fac, wincing in noticeable discomfort as she leaned back. He frowned.

"Pleased to see you are still alive." The comment earned an agitated snort as Yara rolled her eyes. Ignoring the intense burning gaze that made note of every fading bruise and visible welt. Several angry looking cuts exposing themselves on her left shoulder as her shirt slid down ever so slightly. Curious fingers reaching out to pull the shirt back, only to be slapped away as she gave him a warning look. Brows knitting together in frustration, he withdrew his hand for the time being. 

"That should be seen to by a healer."

"It is fine." She assured, pulling the shirt back over her shoulder gently before tightening the laces on the front of it to keep it better in place. It was Ivar's turn to roll his eyes at the hardheaded young woman who sat before him. Pale faced and tired, small beads of sweat gathering along her hairline despite it being a cool Spring day.

"You certainly do not look fine." He retorted. "You need to see a healer."

"I do not remember wanting, nor asking for your opinion." Yara snapped back. "I.am.fine."

"I will drag you along myself if I must." He shrugged matter of factly, watching as she narrowed her gaze at him. Pushing herself to her feet and moving to sit at the opposite side of the room on her bed.

"I would like to see you try." She replied with a small laugh, wincing at the pain the action clearly caused her. Her eyes widening suddenly at the quickness in which he closed the distance between them in. Vice like grip grasping her ankle and pulling her off the bed she had been seated on. Yelping as her rear connected with the hard floor roughly. His face mere inches from her own, blue eyes boring into her own.

"Do not underestimate me, woman." Ivar warned her in a dangerously low tone before releasing her from his grasp. "If you will not come willingly, I have ways of getting you there myself."

"Do you not think I would have already seen a healer if I was allowed to leave here?" She replied, not moving from the spot she had previously landed in. Ivar still in close proximity.

"Believe me. Your father is more than occupied, and will remain so for quite some time. He will not even noticed you are gone." Ivar stated. "You have my word. I will not get you into further trouble with the man." He had a difficult time making that promise, sooner wishing he could take an axe to the blacksmiths face and be done with the situation. But he kept that thought to himself.

 "Well?"

"Fine..." She replied quietly. But he could hear the uncertainty that wavered in her voice as she eyed the door nervously, but stood nevertheless. Grabbing a cloak from beside her bed and putting it on. Ivar smiled triumphantly. 

"Do not dwell on your victory too much, my dear Prince." He scowled at  her use of the word. "I am only doing this so that you will leave me alone to die in peace." Opening the backdoor with a smirk, Ivar rolled his eyes and followed her outside.

The house sat close to the woods which made it all the more easy to sneak away unnoticed, but the trek was long nevertheless, more so with frequent stops so that they could both catch their breath before continuing on. But they happened upon a small shack sometime later. Greeted by a young blonde woman who beamed brightly at the sight of the youngest Ragnarsson. That smile faltering with one glance at the girl beside him who was headed straight for the ground, another man appearing seemingly out of nowhere and catching her before she could hit.

"Gods!" The man gasped, sweeping her up in a swift motion as he headed for the small shack. "She is blazing hotter than the fires of Hel it's self!"

"Get her inside." The woman instructed in a hurried tone. Her strict orders and the voices that followed, slowly becoming one melded together blur as Yara slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

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TAGLIST: @jade770 @captstefanbrandt @readsalot73 @that-darling-babygirl @greennightspider @microsmacrosandneedles @irishhiggins @dmv49 @naaladareia @terrainhead

[satiah81]

The Thing That Should Not Be - Chapters 1-22

This is a reblog of my work originally posted on Archive of our own. Feel free to like, reblog and leave comments. Unfinished, work in progress with (bi-) weekly updates.

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield X OFC

Warnings: NSFW, sexual content, adult themes, non-con

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982820?view_full_work=true

Summary: I`d never liked my life in the bustling city, superficial, gray and lonely, as it was. Yet what I found in the new world was far beyond words. Dark and passionate. Cruel and scary. What Thorin taught me about his reality I would remember forever.

WARNINGS! If you are not comfortable with rape/sexual slavery/angst topics, then this story is not for you. It is a dark and intense fantasy.

Chapter 1

The water was deep and cold, black as the darkest night. It froze my senses, intoxicating me with sharp pain, biting in my limbs. I tried to scream but was silenced by the pressure and ice-cold fear that crept in my heart. I was being dragged further down to the depths. I kicked and managed to get rid of the handbag on my shoulder and moved closer to the surface in desperate need of oxygen.

Then I sensed subtle change in the atmosphere as a ray of pale light emanatied from far below. It was there for a split second and all went back to normal. I finally emerged on the surface and took in my first breath, gasping.

The lake was large and its waters dark, on one edge covered with thick mist of early autumn. I swam to the nearest bank and totally exhausted spread on the grass. It was early morning and I could sense bright sun hidden behind the white wall of clouds.

Where was the yacht gone? I blinked in surprise and searched the water for any sign of movement, familiar object, or any sound. The silence was deafening.

When I came to my senses, I decided to search the bank systematically. If the yacht sank, there must be some wreckage left, broken pieces of wood or… bodies. The storm had come out of nowhere, I remembered blinding lightning and scared faces. Then all went wet and cold and I was fighting for breath suddenly.

Nothing. I inhaled deeply. Perhaps they have left without me.

I remembered there was a river flowing into the lake. I followed its stream in the direction from which I remembered our yacht had sailed. After half-an-hour walk I finally realized they could not have possibly sailed away so fast.

Something was very wrong here. The trees looked unfamiliar. The landscape felt different but I could not put my finger on why. Fear and distant, hazy thought that something strange and perhaps unnatural had happened crept at the back of my mind.

I sat down by a tree and thought for an hour, waiting. Then I returned to the lake and roamed its surroundings for the rest of the morning. I ate some berries and drank a few sips of water from the lake which I had already started to hate. I waited. They must come back for me with a rescue party and dogs, that's how it's normally done, right?

As the night drew near, hunger squeezed my stomach even more and I ate all the berries I could possibly find. That will have to do for tonight. Tomorrow I would eat properly.

With sunken heart I found a hidden place among bushes and trees, shielded but still with good view of the lake. The ground was covered with dry moss, its smell reassuring. I laid my head on it and started to cry.

Of course I could not sleep. My white party dress was still uncomfortably wet but I dared not take it off. What if they come for me? I can't afford to lose time dressing up. But the night was surprisingly warm and except for some night creatures` noises in the distance nothing stirred it. I slept for about three hours.

xxx

When I woke up in the morning, it was crystal-clear that no one would come to take me home.

I threw away my only high-heeled shoe and barefoot set off for a journey to nowhere.

I followed the river down its flow. There are always towns and villages nearby, that's how we were taught at school. Remember? No matter what, always follow the water. By the position of the sun I roughly estimated I was heading south. The country slightly changed, now I was walking in vast lowlands covered with dry grass and scattered rocks. Still no sign of civilization. I did not remember this land. I was getting terribly hungry and my bare feet hurt. I desperately yearned to return to the bustling city I had hated all my life, with all its concrete, steel and glass and crowds of nameless faces; the chaotic traffic and the ever-present smog and noise. Even the job in a telecommunications company. Fuck them and their forced team-buildings! Fuck their yacht!

But there was only the silence and forces of nature. I was alone, unarmed, with no supplies, tottering on by the sheer power of will. I was very tired. If I died here perhaps I would not lose that much. No one would miss me.

Chapter 2

 The next day started in the same way, with no changes in the landscape, no sign of a town whatsoever, not even a road! I slept very little last night and was even more hungry, my feet now bloodied with little wounds and scratches. Exhausted, I lay down in the shade of a large rock and drifted in a dreamless sleep. It was late morning.

 And then something stirred at the back of my mind. Wake up, something is wrong!

 I blinked and shielded my eyes, half-blinded by the sun. Sleepily I sat up to see something that made my eyes widen in shock.

 I saw a group of the strangest creatures, not more than five, foul and hideous, approaching me at great speed. Dressed in animal skins and coarse metal plates, armed with primitive - but still! - metal hooks and maces, their faces not at all human. I could smell their sharp odour even from where I was sitting.

 Am I dreaming?

 I stood up clumsily, prepared to run, but the fastest one was already there and grabbed me by my arm fiercely. I screamed and cried out: “Stop it! What do you want from me?!” But he did not seem to understand. I kicked him and fought desperately  but it only made them all laugh. He asked his fellows something in a sharp, coarse tongue and seemed to be satisfied with their answer. Suddenly he yanked me by my hair and made me fall on my knees. I cried out in pain. He unsheathed his primitive sword and pressed its tip to my throat. I felt it pierce my skin to drive a few drops of blood. Then the blade moved down to the neckline of my dress, agonizingly slowly. He held it with one hand and with the other one all of a sudden cut the thin cloth in one long, swift movement. I stared down at my nakedness in shock. A thin red scratch was crossing my stomach. I stood up and attacked him with all my remaining strength, kicking and biting where I managed to reach. They just laughed. Then I felt sharp pain on my left thigh and collapsed to the ground. This time he cut me very deep. I could not run away now.

 Then he removed my panties and sank down on me with his full weight. He stank of fish and his rotten teeth made my stomach rise in disgust. With one strong movement he entered me and I cried out in sharp pain, tears of desperation filling my eyes.

 Then something happened.

 Out of nowhere a man sprang out, armed with a large silvery sword, and with battlecry on his lips sank the sword into my enemy's throat. Its tip stopped a few centimetres above mine. His blood splashed on my face and started to pour down on my chest wildly. Wide-eyed, he struggled to get off me and in that attempt smashed me in the head. All went blank for a split second and then I saw the silver blade once again and the creature's head flew away. The body collapsed on me, its weight holding me down once again.

 The man shouted something towards me, something I could hardly understand, and turned to the others.

 What happened next came like a strange end to a nightmare. I saw him move around swiftly, cutting off arms and piercing bodies. He occasionally cried out in effort but seemed to be a skilled warrior. The creatures were a little match to him. His blue cloak lined with fur moved around swiftly along with his dark long hair.

 When the last enemy fell, he stood still and panting turned around to take in the situation - he searched the corpses around him and surroundings for any sign of movement.

 Finally his gaze stopped on me, lying helpless on the ground.

 He walked towards me, his right hand still holding the sword, prepared for anything, his face expressionless. He grabbed the corpse's arm and seemingly effortlessly rolled it over and away from me.

 I stared down at me in shock. The only piece of garment to cover my nakedness was my once-white luxury bra, now covered with crimson blood. My decollete and belly were all sticky with the red liquid, out of which a few streams found their way down to my bare thighs and womanhood.

 I made a frail attempt to cover myself and keep whatever dignity remained.

 His steady gaze moved slowly across my body, from the bruises on my face, down to my belly and lingered on my shaking hands which tried to cover my secret places.

 He opened his mouth as if to speak but instead turned his head away. From behind the rocks the wind brought in men`s shouts and sounds of hooves on the rocky ground.

 He shouted in that direction in strong, commanding voice: “Stay where you are, all of you! Don't come here until I summon you!” It sounded like a mixture of old Norse and English, difficult to comprehend, yet still I understood.

 And with that he kneeled beside me and asked matter-of-factly: “Are you hurt anywhere else?” and gestured towards the deep cut on my thigh.

 “I… don't know.” I whispered and looked around, disorientation and shock taking their grasp of me now that it was over.

 He took off his cloak and without a single word wrapped me in it, fastening it on my right shoulder with a buckle. My right hand was free but the left one stayed hidden under the cloth. He rolled the cloak up to reveal my thigh which was bleeding heavily. He examined the wound, his face that of perfect calmness, its expression impenetrable, his blue eyes ice-cold lakes. It felt very right though, under these circumstances.

 He reached for my party dress which lay cut in two beside me and before pressing it to my wound, studied it briefly. I hissed in pain.

 “Who are you?” he shot.

 “I got lost…” I whispered out of my breath.

 “Where is your village? Who do you travel with?”

 “My village?” I blinked. “There is no village, we came yachting on the lake but then the storm came and I'm alone here now… I don't know what happened… How I got here… Why do you all carry swords? Where am I now?” I asked puzzled.

 “Out of the lake…” he spoke for himself and then his face hardened.

 “Dwalin! All, you may come!” he shouted towards the rock that shielded us.

 There came hurried steps and surprised cries before I could actually see my saviour`s companions. What strange beings they were, short of stature, with ridiculous hair and beards and clad in the oddest garments which could only be seen in living history spectacles. They surrounded us and one of them, a grey-haired one, kneeled beside me in surprise while the others left to search the vicinity for any signs of other enemies. He raced off behind the rock only to reappear with a skin filled with transparent liquid that he poured on my wound. I hissed and a few tears escaped my eyes. I wiped them away with my one free hand. Then he forced a few tablespoons down my throat. He then bound my leg tightly with my dress to which appearance he paid no attention whatsoever.

 “I cannot do more here, the wound needs proper sewing. She is losing blood.” He turned towards my saviour as if to ask for his approval.

 The latter, while my wound was being tended to, wiped his sword clean and sheathed it. Now he was sitting a few metres away from us on a dead tree trunk, deep in thoughts, his eyes studying me. Now and then they turned towards the direction from which I had come.

 He nodded slowly. There was certain gracefulness to it.

 “Do not fear lass, you will be safe and sound with us,” smiled the grey-haired one to me as he tried to comfort me.

 Their leader, for he surely was one, stood up and asked simply:

 “Can you walk?”

 Frowning, I struggled to my feet and made one weak step. But my sore feet betrayed me, and I would have fallen to the ground, had the grey-haired one not caught me. I clenched my teeth.

 Their leader walked towards me and without a warning lifted me in the air.

 “Put your arm around my neck,” he commanded. I did so and he carried me quite some distance towards their horses hidden behind the rocks.

 As soon as we reached them, he put me down. I immediately grabbed the nearest saddle to steady myself. The animal, tall and graceful, glanced back at me in curiosity. How on earth am I supposed to ride a creature like that?

 My saviour reached for a bag hanging from the side of the horse and produced a skin bottle. He handed it over to me without a word. It was wine, strong and sweet. I drank a few sips and wanted to return it to him, but he shook his head in disapproval. I drank some more until he finally looked satisfied. God, I will get drunk within minutes if they continue forcing to me their mixed alcohol! Considering that I have eaten nearly nothing in the past three days. I passed the bottle to him and he tucked it back into the side bag. Then he placed his hands on my hips and lifted me up into the saddle, both of my legs to one side. Then he swiftly mounted the horse himself.

 I have never really ridden a horse and suddenly I found myself sitting on one. The height felt immense. I grabbed the horn with my right hand, the left one still covered by the cloak, and found it nearly impossible to hold stable in this position. The saddle was not a women`s one. As he positioned himself behind me, the horse moved slightly to the left and I gasped, trying desperately not to fall on my face. He placed both his hands in front and behind me and moved closer to reach for the reins. At that his long hair touched my face and I did my best not to look up at him and stay from his body as far as possible. We set off and my knuckles whitened with effort.

 “You will fall if you avoid me,” he said under his breath and pulled me to him so that I was leaning on his chest now. I stiffened for a while, but indeed it was much easier for me to maintain balance like this.

 We rode in silence for a good while, forming a fine line, the other three fellows before and after us. I could hear the horses` snorts and sound of hooves against the ground. The air was fresh and mild breeze started to blow. I risked a quick glance at him. He did not seem to notice.

 His ice-blue gaze remained fixed on the horizon, distant and impenetrable, his features regular, his bearded jaw determined. He wore leather armour, encrusted with delicate plates of metal where I could see and feel, and under it dark blue chemise. His long hair cascaded down from his shoulders in waves, as a dark mane shielding a lion. It occasionally touched me as he moved his head. I cautiously took in his scent; it reminded me of old leather and spices, deeply masculine.

 “Did he rape you?” he shot into the silence all of a sudden.

 “What?!” I froze, hoping I had overheard. My face blushed blood-red in a second.

 “Did the scum manage to rape you?” he whispered nearly inaudibly, just for my ears to hear. He looked down at me for a moment and continued to stare in front of him.

 “You can`t ask me such things... ” I breathed, my voice shaking. Tears filled my eyes and all of a sudden I started to tremble as flashbacks of that day reappeared in front of my eyes. I still felt the sharp pain between my legs, the one single goddamn thrust I would remember all my life. I felt filthy and deceived.

 He looked down at me again.

 “I have saved you, of course I have the right to know,” he informed me, pausing for a while. “Your secret is safe with me though. They do not know, and will not guess,” he gestured towards his fellow riders. “You have long enough to decide how much you tell the healer by the time we return to the camp.”

 He reached back for the side bag again and passed me the wine. I drank a few sips, unwillingly.

 “More!” he commanded and pressed it to my lips again.

 “Do you want me to get drunk?!” I protested weakly, pushing the bottle away.

 “Aye,” was his simple and honest answer.

 I drank some more and returned the bottle to him, nearly apologetically. “I don't like alcohol.”

 “Then you have not tasted any good vintage wine. We store some special sorts in our cellars. And mead and strong beer,” he changed the subject.

 But the damage was done, I already started to shake uncontrollably, shock of past events taking over what was left of my self-control. I cried bitterly, the wine surely helping my emotions to flow freely.

 He made no attempt to hush me. We rode in uttermost silence for an eternity, I lost in my grief and he in his thoughts… perhaps. But the horse strode at regular pace and I cried long enough to exhaust myself.

 “What is your name?” he interrogated finally.

 “Kate Evans.”

 “Kate Evans, where have you come from?”

 “Rather tell me where we are now.”

 “Certainly in eastern Rhovanion, by the Running River.”

 I shook my head in disbelief. None of this made sense.

 “This must be some nightmare.”

 “It is what you make of it.”

 And that was it. I was too tired to think any further, so I just asked:

 “What was your name again?”

 “Thorin.”

Chapter 3

I spent the rest of the journey half-awake, not really caring where they were taking me. But when I saw the red tents of a war camp in the distance, I was alert immediately. Right in front of us sprang out from the depths of the earth hundreds of tents, of natural and red colours, with banners and flags proudly erected, floating in the breeze. And war carriages, horses and rams, and soldiers, countless heads clad in heavy armour, very short, dwarf-like. They carried numerous kinds of weapons - mostly axes and spears - some practising their art of war, some sitting and eating, some resting on the grass doing nothing. But they all greeted us as our small company entered their lines, bowing their heads in salutation.

We stopped in front of the largest tent right in the centre of the camp. It was decorated with intricate patterns with symbolic meaning, as I guessed, and a pair of guards stood in front of its entrance. But what guards they were! Very tall, slender in their golden armour, with pointed ears and skin pale as if they had never seen the sun.

Thorin dismounted the horse, and to my astonishment, one of the guards reached out and carried me into the tent without being told to. His skin had a strange, opalesque tone to it, his features delicate as if carved from the rarest marble, adding to the unearthly ambiance around him. As he moved, he seemed to dance in the air with me in his arms.

The tent`s furnishing was very simple, with a few chairs, a large table with maps spread all over it, a massive wooden chest and a portable bed to the side of it. Effortlessly the guard carried me to the bed and laid me down on the furs. He bowed elegantly and returned to his post at the entrance. I heard Thorin order someone to bring in the healer and prepare some warm water and clean clothes. Then all went silent and I was left alone. I breathed out and sank into the furs. They felt unbelievably comfortable after the three days out in the wild!

Shortly thereafter I heard the guards salute to someone and a tall being of the same race was ushered. He wore beautiful silken robe, decorated with yellow and silvery ornaments, his long light hair secured in a simple yet utterly elegant hairstyle. He smiled at me and lowered his head in a warm greeting.

“My lady, I shall tend to your wounds now, if you allow me. My name is Amarth,” and with that he opened a wooden chest he had brought with him.

“I`m Kate. Thank you,” I replied and uncovered my bandaged thigh.

“The wound is deep and bleeds a lot. It will require immediate sewing. But you will walk after it is healed,” he encouraged me upon checking it. He then cleaned it and before the actual surgery reached out to touch my temples. He looked deeply in my eyes and my head started to swim. “You will feel no pain,” he said, and I did not, much to my surprise. But I did not have the guts to watch him work. I rather studied the room, concentrating on the sounds coming from the outside, until he was finished. He then tended to the cut on my stomach, little bruises and scratches on my feet and washed my face gently. Looking at the stained washing basin I realized how much blood I wore smeared all over my face! Then he washed my hands and arms and suggested that I clean the rest myself. He explained there were no other women in this camp to take care of me. He turned his back to me and sat at the end of the bed as I reached for the cloth.

“Are there any other wounds to be tended to?” he asked finally.

I hesitated for a moment. “No.”

“Are you sure, my lady? Deep in my heart I feel that you are hurting in other ways.”

“I am sure there are no other wounds,” I confirmed. What else could I say?

He replied nothing but I felt he did not quite believe me. I have just finished the hygiene and put on a clean men’s tunic that had been brought in for me, so he turned back to me, and to my great dismay, reached out to hold both his hands directly above my womb. I stiffened in a sudden strike of panic, but he did not touch me. I felt immense heat emanating from his palms and the pain between my legs started to ease until it finally disappeared. Then he placed his hands above my heart and made a small grimace of dissatisfaction.

“I have healed your body, my lady. The rest you will have to heal yourself.”

And with those words he left.

Chapter 4

I just realized that my dwarves as I describe them in this story are considerably tall, more or less of human height, just much more robust. I kind of can`t imagine looking down at Thorin or any other warrior! :) BUT you can imagine them as suits you.

Enjoy!

                     A few minutes after that they brought to me some soup to eat, with a few slices of bread. It tasted most delicious, especially in my state. And it was steaming hot, to finally warm me! Satisfied, I sank into the furs and let my eyes wander around the space. A dwarf-like, short man took the bowl away, only to return with a nice cup of strong herbal tea. I tasted some medicine in it, though.

”It will do you good,” he smiled, and backed away politely. The cloth in the entrance made a soft sound as he left.

I drifted in a shallow, disturbed sleep, though how long I slept, I did not know.

xxx

I opened my eyes to an early evening and stared in surprise at Thorin, seated on another bed on the opposite side of the tent. The table with the documents had been moved to make room for the new portable bed. Thorin had changed to a more comfortable, beige tunic, his dark hair sprinkled across his shoulders. An oil lamp to his side, the only source of light in the tent, cast dark shadows on his face. He looked dangerous.

“Amarth has done a good service to you. Your wounds will heal soon,” he spoke quietly, but sternly.

“Thank you… I want to thank you for all you…” I started slowly, my eyelids heavy from sleep and the calming medicine.

“Kate Evans, where have you come from?” he interrupted me all of a sudden, his gaze direct and penetrating.

I blinked. “I come from Norway, although my father is British. How I came here, I honestly don't know…” I paused, waiting for his reaction.

He raised his eyebrow. “That Norway. Where is that supposed to be?”

“It's a country in Europe, of course.”

“And that is?”

“A continent on Earth,” I replied in disbelief.

He stared at me, his fiery eyes growing even darker. “No more jests, Kate Evans! I want to hear the truth now!”

“But that is the truth!” I exclaimed, my voice rising shakily. “I honestly don't know! I don't know what happened to that wreck of a ship and where I am now! Where is this Rhovanion? I can't even check my GPS, I lost my cell in the damn water!” Now I was nearly yelling, tears in my eyes. “Who the hell were those creatures?” I collapsed onto the bed at the sudden pain which sprang from the cut on my belly.

Losing his temper, he grabbed a large parchment from the table and strode towards me. He tossed it on my bed and stood there towering, waiting for something. When I did not react, he pointed a finger to a lowland by a river, and I understood that was our location.

“Show me.”

I turned my eyes to the map once again. I realized I didn't recognize any of the rivers, towns or mountains. “I can't. This is not how Europe looks. Do you have a world map? A map depicting other continents?” I inquired, hoping I would finally persuade him that I was not a liar.

“Middle-Earth is the only continent on Arda as we know it now,” he replied gravely and took the parchment from my hands.

My heart sank. I did not try to wipe away the tears that quietly flew from my eyes now. I realized I could not tell him more about me and my… world. The thought struck me as a lightning. This must be some strange world, another world, another reality, perhaps even dimension! How else can you explain all that had happened?!

“This is a nightmare,” I sighed under my breath.

“Rest now,” he commanded and extinguished the oil lamp. Then he turned away and walked out of the tent. “Summon the generals!” I heard him growl to someone. As he rolled the cloth aside, the moonlight glistened on the golden helmet of one of the guards. It was the one who carried me in his arms earlier today.

I must have drifted in a heavy, dreamless sleep, for I did not wake up when Thorin returned. And I did not want to wake up at all, that was true.

  xxx

The early morning found me sound asleep. I awoke to the muffled voices in front of the tent and then Amarth walked in, gracious as always, wearing his splendid silken robes and on his lips the ever-present smile. The cloth shielding the entrance was pulled to one side and secured there to let in the pale sunlight. He lowered his head in a greeting and sat down by my side on the bed.

“My lady, will you allow me,” and he touched my forehead to check my temperature. “You look better today. How was your night?”

“I didn't sleep very well…”

“Certainly because of me. We had some heavy conversation last night,” came the deep grunting voice from the right. I turned my head to the direction from which I heard it coming. Thorin was lying on his bed, half sitting, half leaning on one arm, enjoying his breakfast. With his free hand he reached for some cheese from a plate laid in front of him.

“She was lucky enough to be able to speak, after all the spirits that had been forced unto her yesterday,” Amarth said very calmly, turning to Thorin, and I was not entirely sure if he meant it as a joke after all.

“It did its job,” Thorin nodded, satisfied.

“It surely did, your Majesty.”

What did he just say?! I inhaled sharply, my cheeks turning red in a second. Was I sharing a room with a king? And… did I shout at one just last night? I bit my lip and looked away, embarrassed. I could have guessed. By the way he spoke, moved and gave orders, and the air of authority which seemed to tame all defiance. But then again, I could have not. To introduce himself as king Thorin when we met each other would have sounded… out of place.

Amarth leaned in to examine the little scratches on my face and hands and then he showed to my leg. “Will you?”

I stared at him for a moment not understanding what he wanted me to do. “Oh.. yes,” He was either being so terribly polite or he did not want me to feel any kind of menace. Which I appreciated very much. I pulled away the fur to uncover my leg. He removed the bandage and started to cleanse the wound. The air filled with scent of herbs and fresh linen, mixing with dried blood. I watched him work. I felt grateful that someone cared for me in this horrid world, let it be a doctor caring for his patient.

“I will not have much time for this later,” he said while reaching for a clean bandage. “Not after the army returns.”

“Where are they going?”

“To war,” replied Thorin instead of him. He was towering in the entrance, already taking his leave, with his back to us. “We are at war.”

“When... are you leaving?” I breathed, unsure of my future once again.

“In one hour.”

“Then… good luck,” were the only words that came to my mind. What else could I say? Farewell and thank you if you don't return? I choked on the sentence but I think he kind of understood because he turned his head to me and nodded. Then he stepped out into the light.

 Chapter 5

We were left alone now. Amarth asked me to pull up my tunic so that he could examine the cut. I hesitated for a moment, remembering that I wore no panties now. So I pulled the furs up to my waist and did as he told me, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. I felt ashamed because all his care reminded me painfully of all that had been done to me. I pressed my lips to a thin line when he smeared an ointment over the already forming scar.

“Do not worry, the wound will leave no marks. It will turn invisible in a few months,” he smiled reassuringly.

“I doubt there will be anyone to check,” I said bitterly but regretted it immediately because I said more than I wanted. “I wish I could return home.”

He finished what he was doing and looked me in the eyes for a long moment, as if searching for an answer.

“You have come from very far, indeed. Yet your journey back is impossible, I fear.” I gulped, but he continued. “This is a good world, you might grow to like it in time. Once this war against evil is over.”

And he spoke to me of Thorin's kingdom and this world, vast and strange as it was. Of the dwarves and the elves and other races that inhabited it, and of the hideous orcs and goblins who grew so wild and dangerous in recent years that war seemed inevitable to tame them. He told me how Thorin became the king after a long and exhausting battle which came to be known as the Battle of Five Armies, where his two descendants died. Victory was his, but he grew bitter and untrustful, darkness and rage poisoning his heart for ten long years. But then the orcs arose once again and chose to ride the neighbourhood, occasionally crossing the borders of the dwarven kingdom, killing and ransacking all the good that had remained. The last drop was a village burnt to the ground two weeks ago, just one-day ride from Erebor. That was when the decision was made to march against the orcs with full force, deep into the fields of wilderness. Elven king Thranduil sent his elite five hundred  warriors for help, among them the personal guard that I had had the chance to meet already. And Amarth along with them. Then Amarth came to the point where our paths crossed. Thorin was leading a scouting expedition with his most faithful ones, that was when they found me. And today the future would be decided.

I came to understand that this was a world on the level of European Middle Ages, full of danger and grief. I was terrified by its sheer rawness and the possibility that I could be killed or hurt at any given time for literally no reason. It was so very far from my peaceful home in the overcrowded city, dull but safe! I thought I would never get used to it. And I didn't want to think of what I would do after my wounds are healed, where I would go. I was devastated.

Chapter 6

It was long past midnight when I heard the army return, the shouts and cries preceding it. Thousands of victorious voices rising in wild joy and laughter.

Then came Thorin's voice, summoning the keepers of the camp to care for the wounded. “Balin! Call for Amarth and Oin! Keep the wounded here in the centre so that the healers can access them at any time. Gloin, prepare the generals' tent for those who need surgery. Count the dead and wounded and report to me immediately!” Soon fire-flames sprang up all around the camp, I could see the night lighten and shine. After an hour came the smell of mutton being roasted and the voices started to slowly calm down.

The curtain at the entrance moved and Thorin walked in with his head proudly erect, his face smeared with blood and dirt, his hair hanging down his shoulders in thick messy ropes. He breathed out exhausted to death, his eyes closing for a brief moment, his shoulders finally relaxing. Then he looked at me and smiled.

“Congratulations,” I smiled back at him.

He nodded towards me in agreement, his eyes flickering with satisfaction. “I will have to keep you, Kate. Now that the future has been decided.”

I blushed deeply, not knowing what to reply. “I will not disturb you for too long, I will find my way out of this.”

“I strongly doubt that,” came the answer.

He collapsed to a chair and immediately after that Amarth sped in with his wooden chest and flowing hair.

“Where was the wound, your Majesty?” He helped Thorin get rid of his metal and leather armour that covered his upper body and arms. Thorin removed his tunic, growling at that movement in pain. Right under his arm, straight from the armpit down to the ribs came a nasty wound, where some blade found its way through the unshielded surface. Amarth ordered more light to be brought in and started to work on the wound immediately. Thorin rested his head on the back of the chair and in silence watched the healer do his job.

“Your Majesty should have summoned me earlier. You are risking your health for no reason,” uttered Amarth.

“Nonsense! Rather tell me how many of my warriors are wounded heavily. When is it appropriate to leave for Erebor?”

“I did not count those but we will need to perform several surgeries today the  whole night long... Maybe tomorrow until the afternoon, that is if all present healers help with no breaks to recover their strength. But we will manage to save many lives, if Iluvatar smiles at us. The losses suffered seem heavier than they are.”

“Good. Then we shall leave in two days. Let us recover from the worst and head home at the soonest. Will you accompany us to Erebor, Amarth? Your task is over now that we have won. But you can stay as my guest as long as you wish. As a thank you,” he eyed Amarth in calm anticipation.

“It is my pleasure, your Majesty,” Amarth bowed his head. “I got used to dwarvish ways. I can stay until my king summons me back to Mirkwood,” he replied as he reached for warm water and soap. He cleansed Thorin's chest and face from all the blood - I was not entirely sure if all of it was his - and to my surprise, when he reached for his hair, Thorin halted him with a simple gesture.

“Don't waste your time here. Go and tend to those who need it.”

Amarth left us in haste, his long dress flapping at the entrance cloth at that. Then Thorin turned his attention to me. “It is your turn now, Kate.”

His request startled me. I blinked in surprise and lingered for a few moments.

“I do not have to tell you the reasons, do I?” he mouthed slowly, his stern eyes locked with mine.

I shook my head. Of course I would help him. Did he not help me? I shook off the furs that covered me and got to my feet hesitantly. I was quite weak still but fought the dizziness with all my remaining strength. I walked slowly towards him and collapsed to another chair behind him. I cautiously brushed his hair away from his face and poured some warm water over it. I looked around for some shampoo but all I could find was some basic soap. I doubted the dwarves would carry such useless things with them to war, so soap would have to do for now. I washed his hair as diligently as I could. He did not seem to enjoy it, nor did he seem dissatisfied. Then I wiped it dry and looked around for a comb. Of course there was none. So I used my fingers to at least untangle his hair, the thick wavy mane that it was.

“Your husband will miss this,” he turned to me to watch me closely.

“My husband? I'm not married.” I admitted. “Nor engaged. Nobody will miss me, if this is what you want to hear,” I whispered.

“How come? Are you not of the age?”

“Of course I am… but I don't want to talk about this.”

“You will not talk to me?” he asked menacingly, his eyes flashing with nearing rage.

“I will… but not about this. Please.”

“Is that a custom in Norway?”

“It's personal, Thor… Your Majesty.”

“You have lost all your secrets the very moment I found you. You must get accustomed to it. I will ask questions and you will answer them. I require that. No exceptions, Kate.”

I inhaled sharply. “It's not as you think. The age is not important in my country. We marry when we find the right spouse.”

“Did your father fail to find a proper man for you?”

“It's my decision and my choice, the family have nothing to do with it, of course.”

“So how does an unmarried woman make her living?” Thorin leaned in, frowning. “Does she walk the streets?” He growled under his breath.

“Of course not! Our women study and work! We are independent of the men! We live on our own, decide on our own and love on our own!” I was starting to get pretty irritated. “Even without marriage!”

That set him ablaze. He stood up, eyeing me angrily, his naked chest moving heavily under the bandage. “Where do you belong then?! Who keeps you safe at times of war, when you walk alone in the open land, when you are sick? When you have no kin of yours? What is it that you do for living, Kate?”

“Do you think me a whore?!” I shouted at him, mad to the point that my hands started to shake.

He shook his head. “Answer me.”

I inhaled three times, ever so slowly, to calm down. “You don't understand. We are safe in the public... Well, mostly. And the society, the government takes care of us if we need…” at those words he gave me the “do-you-really-mean-that” look. I felt I was slowly losing my ground. “I work in a telecommunications company, it's hard to explain.”

“Is it now?”

“Yes… I work with computers and.... Basically help my customers interact, communicate, exchange and store information.” Well, could I explain what a high-end server and storage was?

“Do you carry a weapon?”

“No.”

“Can you use any?”

“No!” I saw where he was heading. “I don't need it!”

He raised his eyebrow. “I see. Can you work in the field, Kate?”

I blushed the brightest red. “No.”

“Can you bake bread?”

“Stop this, Thorin!”

“I will not repeat myself!”

I shook my head, starting to feel desperate. This conversation was taking a turn I didn't like. And worst of all, he addressed the weak points in my past urban life, which I didn't have the courage to name myself. The dull everyday work, which made no sense, with no physical results. Just the eight-hour work at my desk, my eyes tired of the screens, day by day, year after year, in the bustling city that never slept, with all the nameless faces which didn't care. They just didn't. I had a few friends and acquaintances, that was all. He'd made his point. Tears of desperation filled my eyes.

“That is not a good place to stay,” he whispered, and it almost felt soothing.

“Is this one better?!” my voice shook.

“No, it is not. But there are people one can depend on.” He said surprisingly calmly. “Go to rest now. You have served me well today.”

“I`m not serving anyone!” I exclaimed.

“Are you not?” his eyes turned the darkest shade of blue. “I am running out of patience, Kate. Beware of what you say or you will face the consequences.”

I stood up abruptly, taking my leave angrily, but my sore body and stirred mind betrayed me. I would have fallen to the ground had Thorin not caught me. Without a single word, he lifted me in the air, grinning at the pain he obviously felt spreading from his new wound, and carried me towards my bed. He laid me in the furs and said in a very quiet but ever so menacing voice: “This is the second time I had to carry you. You had better think of a good way to return these favours to me.”

Chapter 7

I awoke at the feeling of draught penetrating the tent. Shivering into the brisk morning air, I pulled the furs up to my chin. The sound of light rain against the tent cloth made me sink back with a slight sigh. I was alone here and with nobody else to upset me. I had some serious thinking to be done. Where would I go after I was healed? Could I try to search the lake one more time and possibly return home? I clung to the thought that I had missed something there and then, when all this happened. Some important clue. I needed to find out more, to have at least some plan, otherwise I'd go mad.

Later that day, I was visited by Amarth, and the grey-haired dwarf whom I had met on the first day, Oin. They did not talk much though. They inquired briefly how I felt and left to tend to the soldiers. I was brought a bowl of warm stew which tasted deliciously. Thorin returned in the afternoon, and along with him four dwarves whom I had never seen. By their expensive looking garments and armour I guessed they could be soldiers of a higher rank, or generals. They discussed their matters in a harsh, throaty tongue which I did not understand but occasionally heard from the outside camp. Finally, Thorin tapped one of them on the shoulder and they all left, smiling. I appreciated that so much.

Early next morning, just at daybreak, I was brought clean men's pants and a pair of leather boots. They did not fit my feet entirely but they had to do for the journey. It took several hours to pack the entire war camp, but we managed to set off still in the morning. I was helped into a covered carriage driven by a pair of heavy horses. I sat on a chest full of some beans, around me large sacks of flour, loaves of bread and smoked meat. I could even smell some coffee. A half-conscious elven soldier was lain beside me on the floor, on several layers of cloth. I was told he was being taken home to Mirkwood to be treated properly. I wanted to ask where that was, but we had to make haste. From time to time a soft cry escaped his lips, but we did not talk at all, he was too weak to even try. As we moved, I could hear steady raindrops bump against the canvas, and the sound soothed me to a sweet half-dream.

We travelled like this for three days, stopping regularly for food and relief of the stretched legs. At night the soldiers slept in the open, with the saddles under their heads. I stayed in the carriage though. It was very uncomfortable but still better than for most of us, so I did not object. I did not notice it at first, but the longer I travelled with no companion to talk to, I started to realize that the dwarves marching just behind my carriage avoided direct eye contact with me. This was becoming very strange. Thorin passed by us once a day while inspecting his army, giving me an unconcerned look from the back of his black stallion. He spoke a few words to the two elvish guards who rode by both sides of my carriage and left. I was starting to feel like a prisoner. What was wrong?

On the third evening I heard someone shout “Halt!” and our snake-like line stopped winding by a large forest, its trees tall and ancient beyond words. I heard some of the dwarves whisper "Mirkwood!", their eyes turning to the branches in a superstitious awe. I felt their sudden restlessness. That was when the elvish forces regrouped to a long narrow line and disappeared in the forest, taking my sick companion and other disabled kin with them. Their golden helmets glistened in the fading light and as they entered the dark depths, I could swear I heard the forest sigh with relief that its children had returned.

Amarth and a few personal guards stayed with us. Our carriages formed a large semi-circle as if for protection from an unknown enemy. This was very unusual. But the dusk was nearing and Thorin did not want to travel by night.

As I lay down to rest in the silence, I saw Thorin's silhouette passing by all alone in the dark blue light. He lingered at the border of the forest for a while, listening, waiting for something, his right hand resting on his sword's hilt. Then he turned around and strode towards my carriage. He spotted me fully awake and facing him, and stopped at the entrance. The darkness prevented me from seeing his expression.

“What is out there that you were watching?” I whispered with my heart in my throat.

“Nothing to be afraid of now,” he murmured and stepped into the carriage. He laid down on the floor beside me, spread flat on his back with all his garments and sword by his side.

I laid back as well, but his presence at this distance was quite unnerving. I decided to break the odd silence.

“What is hiding in the forest? Tell me, please.”

“Mirkwood is an ancient and powerful place, full of hate and evil. There are beasts and spirits hungering for flesh. Sometimes they come out at night, but it is very improbable that we see them tonight. We are keeping our distance.” He explained matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” I shrugged at the thought. My pulse quickened. I stared at the opening in the canvas. There was no moon tonight and the night grew dark and weary.

“You asked.”

“Yes.”

“Try to sleep now.”

I turned my back to him and closed my eyes. I couldn't fall asleep for a long time though, and when I did, I dreamt of wolves and dragons in flight. They were nearing and I screamed but no voice came out of my lungs.

I awoke into the dead of the night all drenched in sweat. I sat up with a feeling of danger at hand but could not put my finger on why. Thorin's silhouette by my side moved to touch his sword. I knew he was listening as well.

Then came the cry of a guard, tearing the silence with its sharp intensity. It seemed to be quite near. And then the strange shrieking and hissing sounds of an animal which I did not know. Thorin was on his feet in a second. He jumped down from the carriage and spat his “Stay here!” at me. And he was away, running to the right and behind the carriage towards where Mirkwood spread. Then came other voices of soldiers shaken from their sleep, neighing of horses and sounds of fighting.

I froze and dared not move, my head blank with fear, my heart racing. After a few breaths I moved cautiously towards the entrance and risked a quick glance out into the night but saw nothing. I desperately needed to know what was going on, so I stepped out of the carriage and slowly moved in the direction where Thorin had run. What revealed in front of my eyes was like risen from a nightmare. About fifty metres away from me, a large spider-like creature rose in attack. Around it about ten dwarves, shouting and stabbing the beast with swords and axes. From the direction of the forest other three spiders ran, I could hear their hissing even here. I saw a silvery blade rise and just then a voice of horn sounded in alarm. I heard the sound of hooves behind me and then all went still.

xxx

I could feel the fire before I actually opened my eyes. Above me the worried face of Amarth and the touch of his healing hands. He spoke to me but I could not make out his words at first. To my left Oin aiding him.

“...my lady! Can you hear me?”

I nodded but a million sparks of pain exploded in front of my eyes. My leg hurt as well.

“Do not move, everything will be alright,” advised Oin.

“What happened?” I breathed out.

“You are lucky the horse didn't kill you, lass. It rolled over you but we managed to get you from under it before it did you more damage,” he explained, adding some extra drama. “You have a couple more bruises but the worst is that your largest wound has reopened, judging by the blood. All the work from the last days is ruined. We have to start all over again.”

“Oh… but the spiders...?”

“Nobody was killed,” he smiled reassuringly. “Just a few wounded soldiers to be tended to, and you, of course.” He blinked at me. “But do not worry, we will fix you.”

“Thank you, Oin.” I managed a weak smile.

Then my eyes met Thorin's gaze. He was standing above us with his hands crossed across his chest in a menacing gesture. By his looks I could tell he was in terrible rage, his once ice-cold eyes gleaming and he would breathe fire as a dragon if he just could.

“Did I not tell you to stay in the carriage?!” he shot.

“Well… yes. But as you can see, I paid my price already,” I showed at my leg bitterly.

“You must learn to obey my orders!”

“Obey your orders?” I could not believe what he was saying. “I`m not your subject! Look, I owe you a lot, you helped me, without any doubt. But I will leave as soon as I can and we'll just wrap this all up.”

“You are not going anywhere.”

It took a few seconds until his words sank in. “What?! What did you just say?!” That bastard! I wanted to tell him more but my head started spinning from the loss of blood and all the excitement. At the edge of my sight I saw Oin and Amarth exchange worried looks.

“Do not speak, my lady. Try to relax. You have lost a lot of blood,” spoke Amarth, eyeing Thorin directly. Thorin took a deep shaky breath. I could see he was fighting his emotions with all the strength of his reason, and it was a difficult fight. After a few more breaths he seemed to tame the anger. He spoke very slowly now, carefully choosing his words.

“Tend to her wounds. Make sure she recovers her strength before we return. And explain to her how things are in Erebor.” Then he turned his back to us and left.

I could tell Oin was quite beside himself from our conversation. The dwarves definitely did not speak to Thorin in the way that I did. He was their king, of course, but I just could not help myself. I was not used to their ancient ways. Their admiration and obedience to their superiors. All the loyalty I could not understand. I was brought up as an independent woman, how could I bear such behaviour?

Amarth turned to me with a slight smile. “There we are. Shall we begin now?”

Then they cut my pants on one side to gain access to the wound and started to work. After all was finished, they covered me with an extra blanket and stayed with me watching the fire, occasionally checking if I was alright. They spoke of the attack, and that all were surprised that the spiders dared to come out of the forest. Amarth explained that it was indeed very unusual, but not entirely impossible. This night was moonless and the creatures felt safe under the cover of darkness. And hunger does its magic, he emphasized. They did not mention Thorin nor dwarvish ways though. Oin wanted to give me some time to recover and choose a proper occasion to talk, as I later discovered.

When my eyes grew hazy, they helped me back into my carriage. I slept all alone that night, my dreams heavy with tiredness of that day.

Chapter 8

It took another long and weary day until we finally reached Erebor. I did not see the mountain from my carriage but could sense we were nearing by the cheerful mood of the dwarves and the change of the terrain which grew mountainous and the climate a little colder. The mists were rolling in front of my eyes thick and heavy. I was left waiting in front of the gate, watching the whole army march away towards my back. After them the sick and the wounded, various helpers in charge of the supplies, tents and gear, and then the horses and war chariots. At last, a wide-armed dwarf called Dwalin showed up and helped me out of the carriage. He lifted me in the air effortlessly and strode into the gigantic gate.

I was ushered into a small dark chamber at the beginning of a long and narrow corridor with numerous doors. Dwalin mounted several staircases with me, but then I lost count. It could have been ten floors or more. As I learnt later, the king's private chambers were located on the very top, just one floor above mine. There I dwelled for full three weeks, resting on a bed made of massive dark wood, its linen white as snow, its velvet covers the colour of the reddest wine. The room was furnished with basic and simple accessories - a large chest of drawers, a padded armchair and opposite the bed, a cosy fireplace. It did not give away much heat though, and at nights I often felt cold. I guessed the dwarves were much more warm-blooded than me. The walls of grey solid rock bore no coating, save for a single tapestry. To my right was a high narrow window overlooking vast plains covered with rocks and dried grass, on the left partly shielded by the solid rock of which the Lonely Mountain was made. The sharp winds which were blowing in these heights broke on its edge, their currents flowing past my window without ever touching it. Occasionally, I could hear them sighing in the fissures of the stone.

My only companions in those days were Oin and Amarth. There came a dwarvish maiden three times a day to serve to me meals, but she did not speak to me at all. My attempts to speak to her came along unnoticed. She smiled at me briefly and turned away. After a few days I tired of trying to befriend her. I remained silent throughout the day, lost in dark thoughts in this dark room and cold kingdom. Only Amarth seemed to enjoy my company and spoke to me long every other day when he came to tend to my wounds and check my condition.

“They accommodated you in the lightest chamber in Erebor,” he spoke to me once when I complained about the ever-present darkness. “Which you can consider an act of favour. The dwarves are used to much harsher conditions.” He smiled. I felt he enjoyed my company being an outsider in this realm as well. He seemed to be able to translate the dwarvish behaviour to me so that I understood… or was starting to understand… until one day.

That was when early in the rainy morning, I suppose it was on Tuesday, Oin came in and sat on a stool by my bed. “Does the thigh hurt still?” he inquired with an undertone in his voice which sounded strange.

“It does… but it's getting better every day… unless I move.” I looked at him in anticipation.

He nodded. I sensed he was trying to think of a gentle way to tell me something which I might not quite like.

“What will become of me? I was not sentenced to death, right?” I interrupted the awkward silence to ask him directly.

“Ugh, no, lass,” he smiled unwillingly.

“When do you think I can leave? I need to… return home.”

“Given your condition and circumstances, I do not think you will leave… unless Thorin decides otherwise.”

“What do you mean by that? I'm not a prisoner, right?”

“Well,” I felt a sudden strike of panic at this word. “In our lands, if someone saves your life, you owe him. You are in debt for the rest of your life, and it is anticipated that you pay your debts to the last coin, so to say. It is up to your saviour to decide the proper way that you do so. In most cases, you stay in the household or vicinity to help your saviour with everyday life. You can call that a life-long companion or a servant, if your master is fair enough. Sometimes it's a slave. Sometimes even worse. And sometimes you are fred, if Mahal allows and you deserve it.”

Thorin's ‘I will have to keep you, Kate. Now that the future has been decided’ flashed in front of my eyes. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

“Deserve?! I didn't ask him to fucking save me! The orcs could have let me go in the end.”

“I am not in position to judge His Majesty`s decisions, lass. But if it helps you understand - the orcs never free their captives.”

“But that's not fair! He can't hold me here against my will!” I exclaimed, feeling the blood rush into my face in anger.

“Of course he can. He has every right to do as he wishes, by our law and tradition. You will remain in this chamber until his Majesty decides your fate. Until then, you have no name and no position in this kingdom.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nobody calls you by your name until your master decides your duties and you are given a new name. Understand this - you practically died and are reborn to a new life, bound to your saviour, with a new name. You lost all and gained all. The responsibility of how your life goes is now on Thorin's shoulders. Even more that you are unmarried.”

“You can't be fucking serious! This all is so sick!” I yelled at him. “What does my love life have to do with it?!”

“He can't let you go because you have no father or husband to tend to you, of course.”

“Yeah, I noticed that`s a great deal for you. If you just let me go you'd get rid of this burden that I am to all of you.”

“Don't waste too much of your strength on your anger.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Try to rest, you will get used to it in time. All is good, believe me.”

I collapsed on the pillows, tears of anger and humiliation stinging in my eyes.

I hated Erebor. I hated all the dwarves. And above all, I hated Thorin Oakenshield.

XXX

Nightmares disturbed my sleep since that day. I saw myself being dragged into a deep pit full of fire, and on its bottom, a devil-like creature calling me by my name, in Thorin's deep voice. And a pair of chalices, we poured to them water from the lake I drowned in, and exchanged them. It took me a few days until Oin`s words sank in and I moved a little closer to accepting my situation. All things pass in time, I once heard, but I doubted the person who said this had ever experienced any wrongdoing in their life.

Then one day, the massive wooden door opened and Thorin walked in. He wore a dark tunic secured with a large ornamented belt and black leather pants. There was no sight of adornments or any jewels pointing to his royal status. He stood by my bed with an air of authority, yet still with certain casual grace.

“How are we doing today?”

“Much better, thank you.”

He nodded. “It has been a long time.” He leaned in slowly and touched my chin with his index finger and thumb, lifting my face gently so that he could better inspect my skin. The scratches were almost gone, and he seemed satisfied. It was just me that felt awkward at the sudden intimacy. I avoided his gaze on purpose. He noticed that and smirked. Then without a warning, he pulled my blanket away and uncovered my wounded leg before I could protest. I felt sudden strike of panic as unwelcome memories flashed in front of my eyes. I screamed and reached for the blanket to pull it back, but he grabbed my hand and pinned it down. He sat down on the bed, shortening the distance between us, and murmured under his breath: “Don`t you dare to defy me!”, clearly enjoying this moment. He waited for a few more breaths and when I did not move, with one hand he slowly pulled my sleeping tunic away to uncover my thigh. The nasty wound was still there, although I did not need to wear a bandage anymore. An ugly thick scar was forming on the white skin, but luckily enough, the flesh was not inflamed.

He breathed out and slided his gaze across my body, the whole length from my leg, across my stomach and chest, and stopped to lock with my eyes. “The rest I will inspect later.” I gulped and he smirked at that. I looked away and desperately hoped that he just leaves.

“Look at me.” came the command.

I reluctantly looked him in the eyes, the deep blue lakes that they were. He reached out to touch my cheek, and traced the line of my lips with his thumb, ever so slowly. My breathing came in shallow gasps, as I fought my once again rising panic. “You do not need to be afraid.” He voiced nearly inaudibly, and I sensed in him understanding of what was going on in me... and fight to suppress his own nature. His hand was warm and his steady touch surprisingly comforting. He entangled his fingers with the back of my head and stroked the back of my neck. My muscles relaxed a little.

“Good girl. We will continue later.” At that he rose and gracefully left the chamber. The door closed and I was left all alone but with my confusion.

Chapter 9

A few hours after that a tall female dwarf entered my chamber, her decent perfume filling the air as she moved gracefully, her long dress sweeping the floor. She was beautiful, with fair skin and black hair cascading down her shoulders, with a few streams braided at the back of her head. She wore simple but expensive dark blue dress and silver earrings which matched her pale blue eyes, embodiment of utter elegance. She stood in front of me with her arms folded across her chest as she studied me openly.

“So you are the little slave girl,” she said, her voice a melodic one, more to herself than to me.

“Obviously. Don't bother asking about my name. It doesn't matter anyway.” I was already pretty irritated.

She burst out in laughter, ringing sincere laughter which caught me by surprise. She was even more beautiful like that. “Thorin said you were a strange creature but I did not expect this! And in much better condition than I had thought! You are practically healed,” she smiled.

“And you are?”

“I  am the one asking questions.” She made a small pause. “I will assign duties you are able to perform. Now, can you cook, iron, sew, knit, do any kind of needlework?”

I answered honestly I could do some ironing and simple needlework and was an average cook, at which she raised her eyebrow but did not comment. She thought for a brief moment and then nodded. “I will send in some clothes that need simple repairs and ironing. It is a temporary solution until you feel good enough to climb the staircases and join other staff.”

I did not reply. Instead of threatening me, she sat down at the edge of my bed and studied me for a long moment. “His Majesty requires that. I am in charge of his household and will see to you performing your tasks properly.” Her voice softened now. “You seem to be an intelligent woman, Katherine of Norway. Do not mess this up at the very beginning.” Touching my hand gently, she whispered. “He does not deserve it after all.”

I blinked. Did he speak to her about our conversation in the war tent? “You seem to know a lot. I don't think I understand your position here.”

“Of course I do know, being His Majesty's dear sister.” At this she straightened her shoulders. “My name is Dis, you are Kate. All is clear now, formalities aside. I know your name but cannot use it in public. That is how things are in Erebor. But sooner or later you will have to make up your mind. Live here as a complete stranger and suffer or accept our ways and what our family has to offer you. Think about it very carefully.” Then she smiled and changed the subject. “Now, I will have your supper sent in. Your door will have to remain unlocked as you are everyone`s property now. Good night my dear.”

“When will I be given the keys?”

“When you are given your new name.”

She left me silent and grim. The wild autumn wind howled in the chimney and I shuddered at the sound.

XXX

The next day a large pile of freshly washed and dried clothes and linen was brought in and the servant girl pushed a low working table next to my bed. I could stand next to it until my leg tired and then have a rest as long as I needed. She showed me how to use their iron, as strange as it was. She took a few steaming wood pieces from the fireplace and shoved them in the iron`s opening, then waited for the tool to heat. Then I could do the ironing as usual, with a few sprinkles of water on the linen, although it needed a little more strength compared to modern electric irons. I did not complain though. At least I had something to spend my lonely hours with, and in fact I was not overloaded at all, Dis made sure of that. The ironing took about one or two hours a day. I was also given a new dress to wear during the day, very simple with no ornaments but comfortable. It was of the deepest forest green colour, the fabric rather thick but soft against my skin, its ankle length helping me retain as much warmth as possible in the cold days. Under it I wore a very light cream tunic with no sleeves as a kind of underwear and light leather shoes with thin sole.

Soon I was ordered to make small garment repairs, mostly stitching of tiny holes. I must have done quite well, because one day I discovered a familiar fur-lined cloak on top of the pile. I recognized a tiny blood stain on its edge where the meticulous washing had failed, and I shuddered.

I was slowly getting used to this life. The monotonous work with needle and iron, regular food and silence, except for the howling wind, was a soothing balm for my shaken nerves. Once in a while, in my stronger moments, I dared to open the door and peek out through the corridor. It was long and dark, with a few oil lamps secured on the walls, and an unrecognizable source of natural light - there must have been some hidden window or an opening in the heights. The corridor was lined with a series of other doors on both its sides, stretching as far as I could see to the left. As I learned later, it was inhabited by lower ranking officials and guests. To the right opened a staircase overlooking a huge, vast hall, resembling an abyss. I could see three floors on the opposite side from where I was standing, and was sure there were much more of them leading up and down which I could not see. The space between the mountain sides was enormous, echoing in its void, making the inhabitants look as unimportant and tiny as ants.

I was soon assigned the task to sweep the floor in this corridor. I did so daily, the servant girl reminding me of it by bringing a bucket of water in front of my door and knocking loudly. I was allowed to take my time so that I don't get exhausted.

Weeks passed and early winter crept in. I watched the first snowflakes dance in the wind, swirling in wild abandon, out of my shielded window. The days grew gray and even more silent, and I remembered bitterly I had not been out of the mountain for one single minute since I had arrived. Dis gave me a walking stick for support on walks longer than my corridor. I used it frequently to roam about and discover my strange surroundings, but preferred to choose the lonely hours of the night when I could not sleep. And there were fewer eyes to watch me. I did not make it to the main gate though, the ten floors were simply too much for my unused muscles.

That was when Dis entered my room to inform me about my new assignment. “You have done very well,” she smiled. “You can leave what you have been doing. Starting tomorrow, you will assist His Majesty with his morning routine.”

I nervously swallowed, and she giggled. “Now do you know how to behave in His Majesty's presence?”

I wanted to tell her that I should not call him a bastard in the first place, but then just shook my head.

“Never mind. First of all, never address him by his name. Never speak to him first, wait for him to start the conversation. If he asks you a question, address him as Your Majesty in your first sentence. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. One more thing, when you enter and leave his chambers, give a small curtsy. Just like this.” And she put her right foot behind her left and briefly bent at the knees. “It is easy.” And she patted me on the shoulder reassuringly.

Her silver-like ringing laughter echoed in my ears long after she had left.

Chapter 10

Next morning, a male servant opened my door to shake me from my deep sleep. It was very early, just before the dawn, and the skies were still dark. I quickly washed and dressed, and half asleep, with my hair all tangled, hurried after him to the upper floor. This was the highest floor, as I learnt, and I could tell that it looked different, lush and richly decorated at first sight. All from the dark red carpet to the dozens of oil lamps told the story of the highest status of its inhabitants. A pair of silent guards stood at the beginning by the steps. Hidden by the corner before the corridor actually started, was placed an intricate tool used for bringing the buckets of fresh water all the way up here, resembling a very deep well. We just had to pull an iron rope for a while. We poured the cold water into a large jar which my companion took along with an empty bucket, and I was given a fresh towel to carry.

Like this, we strode to the very end of the corridor, to the single door in the centre which overlooked its whole length. The servant knocked on the door gently and waited. There was no response for a good while and then there came the sound of a key in the keyhole, the door opened and bright morning sun blinded me. Thorin's silhouette moved in the opening and disappeared before we could finish our morning greetings.

His private chambers consisted of two adjoined rooms, a bedchamber connected to a library and study, and a closet. The carpet was the same dark red colour, matching an ancestral tapestry hanging on the grey stone wall. To the right a large solid four-poster bed, opposite a fireplace and a coffee table with two padded armchairs. In front of me a high window with a bench in the wall, and an old harp which looked abandoned. Thorin was standing by it, peeking out at the early winter landscape, shirtless in the morning cold. The servant hurried to a toilette table in the corner, where a washing basin stood, poured yesterday`s water into the bucket and told me to fill it with the fresh water from the jar. Then he went on to open the window and tidy up the room. I was left standing by the table, holding a towel. I had no idea what to do. Thorin eyed me and strode towards the table. He washed his teeth with a white powder, a mixture of salt and herbs, and then lifted the jar and poured remaining water over his head and shoulders.

“What are you waiting for,” he said, eyeing me impatiently, water dripping from his hair to the ground. The servant was frantically gesturing for me to rub the water away, obviously on the brink of heart attack.

“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” I remembered to address him properly, and hurried to use the towel. I gently wiped away his face and hair, then hesitated briefly before touching his chest. He was finely shaped, with broad shoulders and strong arms, probably because of training with heavy weapons. He noticed that and smirked. I could feel his intense stare, as he was obviously enjoying the moment. I fought desperately not to look him in the eyes. I was not sure what he would see there. He interrupted my thoughts by stepping away and walking into the closet. The servant ran after him to assist with clothes. When Thorin walked out, he was wearing dark brown trousers and a dark red tunic which looked very noble on him. Then he sat on an armchair by the window and dismissed the servant with a single gesture. He looked at me, his eyes flickering with amusement.

“The comb.”

I took the comb from the toilette table and stood behind him. This time I had a comb to do what needed to be done. But this time, Thorin did not speak to me. I worked silently, and slowly started to relax. When I finished, his mane looked like a lion's, truly impressive.

Then he ordered me to bring in his breakfast. I hurried out of the chambers to ask the silent royal guards where I can get some food, and they showed me to a dining room just at the beginning of the hall. I peeked in and found lush breakfast being served on the table. I borrowed a tray from one of the servants and put on some bread, eggs, ham and strong morning tea. I carried all this to Thorin to lay it in front if him, and when I turned away to carry in some more - for there was much more prepared - he stopped me.

“That's enough. Sit,” and he gestured towards the other armchair.

I sat down hesitantly. He took a good bite of the bread.

“You did well with the stitching.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I just hoped he would not start evaluating my other skills. But he did not, surprisingly.

He ate in silence, and I had nothing to say either, so I watched the morning sun rise out in the distance.

“You may leave now,” he dismissed me when he finished his breakfast. I took the tray and before walking out of the chamber, I remembered to give the curtsy. My leg got caught in the long dress, I stumbled and nearly fell down with the tray in my hands, but managed to maintain balance.

I shot a quick glance at Thorin, prepared for a fight.

But he was smiling.

XXX

It took a few weeks until my companion servant taught me the proper service. Then he left me perform my duties alone. The first time I knocked on Thorin's door felt awkward but I got used to it. The longer time I spent in Erebor, with more confidence I moved in his chambers. Thorin did not speak to me and I kept my silence as well. He made a small compromise though by helping himself in his clothes, which I appreciated a lot.

One morning, we sat at the table as usual, Thorin taking his time while eating his breakfast. It was quite chilly that day, I did not sleep well at night and felt weak. I remembered my empty stomach which was normally not a problem. I was looking at Thorin's plate impatiently, when I heard the hungry noise come from my belly. Thorin stopped chewing.

“Are you coming to my chambers hungry all this time?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” I lowered my eyes.

“Then I have been torturing you since the beginning,” he said accusingly. When I did not reply, he pushed his plate in front of me.

“Eat. Next time I want you to come with full stomach.”

“Thank you… you did not need to-”

“Nonsense! You cannot serve me well if you are this weak.”

I shot an angered look at him, but the food in front of me looked too delicious not to taste it. I swallowed my words and took a good bite instead.

“Clean up when you are finished,” he said before taking his leave.

Chapter 11

The king's mornings mostly consisted of attending to state affairs in the audience hall or discussions with his generals and advisors. This happened several times a week. In more quiet days, he sat at his desk in the study, reading through parchments and signing some of them. It was my task to tend to this room as well, but he did not seem to notice me working. In those days, he always ordered me to bring him some wine with water in a tall carafa. I watched him absorbed in the work in front of him, often unconsciously frowning, and when he needed some more time to think about a problem, he took his pipe and smoked long enough to reach a conclusion. Sometimes he strode across the library and I had to get out of his way while dusting the books.

“Can you read?” he asked me once when he caught me trying to decipher a title of an old manuscript.

“I can read our alphabet, Your Majesty. I know the runes but cannot read them. There are lots of stones inscribed by them in Norway. This script I do not know,” I showed at a line of books bearing very gentle and intricate tall letters. “And this looks familiar to Latin alphabet. It's so strange to find it in this place.” My eyes were shining with enthusiasm. He took a large book out of a shelf and passed it to me.

“Can you read this?”

“The tales of the dwarvish kingdom. Collected myths, stories and legends of the ancient folks. Common tongue edition.” I opened the book, happy to understand it, and flipped over a few pages before looking up at Thorin. He looked somewhat surprised.

“You are educated then.”

“Of course I am. I told you the truth.”

“You can read, but you still cannot take care of yourself.”

“What? Of course I could take care of myself in my world! I lived on my own!”

“Enough of that, woman! Take the book and read it in your free time.”

“I will do so. But you cannot accuse me of such incapabilities all the time! Why does it matter so much to you?!”

Thorin's eyes darkened. I watched his expression change to that of deep anger… and something else.

“There is something in you,” he moved one step closer, and was looking down at me now. “Something that calls out my own demons.” With that, he placed both of his hands on my shoulders and in one swift movement pulled my dress all the way down to my elbows. My arms got stuck in the cloth and I couldn't move them, shocked. He slided his eyes across my bare skin and cupped my breasts with both of his hands. They were warm and strong in the cold air and I blushed deeply at the sudden pained desire in my core.

“See? I could take you right here on the table and you'd do nothing against it.” He pressed his body against mine and held my hands behind my back. He pulled at my hair so I was looking up at him now, my neck bent back, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Don`t! Please,” I managed to say, terror and unwanted passion mixing in me, running down my thighs. Soft moan escaped his lips, and I felt his erection pressing hard against my thigh.

“So vulnerable,” he breathed into my hair. He held both my hands down with his one hand, and with his free hand traced my cheek, neck, breasts and my bottom. He squeezed it tight, and I gulped. “So vulnerable, yet you don't fight to save yourself. Are you that submissive or is it the shock of what you have gone through?” Now he was breathing heavily, and I felt his hand slide up my thigh, emanating warmth even through the cloth of my dress. He reached in between my thighs, and I cried out at the hot wave the touch sent through my body. Still, I could not accept him.

“Please don't!” I whispered with tears of desperation in my eyes, and made an attempt to move away from him.

“And yet you respond to me!” he breathed, his eyes filling with dark passion. He was holding me even more tightly now, running his hands all over my breasts and thighs, squeezing at my buttocks, pressing me closer to his body as if he wanted to absorb me, sink me in. When he reached for the bottom of my dress and started to pull it over my knees, I realized what he was doing and cried out loudly, tears streaming down my face freely. Surprised, he looked me in the eyes, and I saw sudden change in him. He looked around the room, as if remembering where we are and what is happening, and he let go off me. He pulled my dress back up my shoulders and took a few steps back. Then he turned his back to me to lean against the window.

“You may leave now,” he dismissed me sternly. I ran out of the chamber, the ancient manuscript all but forgotten on the ground where it fell. At the edge of my sight, I saw Thorin reach out for his pipe.

  Notes:        

So there goes Thorin :) Hope you enjoyed!

I was thinking a lot about the languages and what would a stranger be able to comprehend in Middle-earth, and as the dwarves were used to speak Westron (resembling Anglo-saxon and old Norse), having English and Nordic origins, it would help Kate to communicate with them.

Chapter 12

I was so afraid of the morning that I could not sleep. I tossed and turned on my bed until I gave up and just stared wide-eyed in the darkness. I did not understand what was going on in me, all the opposing feelings of fear, despair and passion, but I knew I had to do something otherwise I would go insane.

I silently opened the door and walked out of my chamber, down a few staircases where I knew the kitchen was, along with royal storerooms and staff quarters. I stopped at one of them and, holding my breath, pressed the door handle. To my surprise, the door opened and I effortlessly sneaked in. Leaving the door slightly opened so that the torchlight came in, I entered the storeroom. All around were standing countless wooden boxes, barrels, sacks and glass vessels, full of supplies and unguarded. On the other side of the large room stood wooden chests with neatly folded royal bed linen and various fabrics. I did not find there what I wanted, so I tried another room. This time I was successful. Before me opened a real treasure of servant clothing and various household utensils - hundreds of candles, piles of soap bars, ropes, working tools. I opened several of the chests and dug through the stored clothes, which to my surprise, were winter fur clothes! I took a pair of thick pants, a thick woolen tunic and a snow-white hooded coat, and in the next chest I found a pair of boots. They did not fit me perfectly but that had to do. On my way back, I packed a bag with food supplies for a about a week, and returned to my room. I knew the front gate closed for the night, so I had to be patient.

The morning found me fully awake, staring onto the vast white plains where my fate would be decided. I had no idea where I would be heading, but the tinderbox which I had taken did provide at least a slight chance of surviving a week until I found a friendly village. Providing I would be able to use it. The gate opened with the first sun rays, and I knew I did not have much time until Thorin found out something was wrong.

It started to snow. I dressed in a hurry, threw the bag with supplies over my shoulder, and walked out of the chamber without ever turning back.

The gate was already open. I sneaked out among other travellers, holding my head down and slightly bending at knees while passing the guards. It was surprisingly easy. I decided to avoid the city which rose in front of Erebor - it would be my hunters` first choice. Instead, I walked over a wide bridge and headed in the direction other than the one from which we originally came the other day. It was snowing heavily now, and I smiled for myself. The snow will cover my tracks. With a little luck, they will not find me.

I walked for about an hour on the wide road, passing occasional travellers. Their numbers grew scarcer with time, as the land opened to its vastness. I started to feel uneasy, imagining what might be going on under the mountain right now, and decided to leave the road, just in case. I followed it from a distance though, hiding behind rocks and trees, which slowed me down, but I felt safer. After some time, I heard horses running by and shouts of men, but if they were searching for me, I did not know. I pressed against a rock and waited, thankful for my white coat. When I heard nothing anymore, I decided to continue on my way.

After a few hours, I sat down under a tree to rest for a while and eat a little bread and salted mutton. I heard no sounds of hooves by the evening, which encouraged me a little. I headed far into the wilderness, off the road, to find a group of trees, which could not really be called a forest, but still they offered some cover. I pressed my hurting body inside a large broken tree trunk which formed a narrow hole, and half sitting, closed my eyes to rest for the night. I did not dare to light a fire though, and was afraid that I might freeze to death, so when I started to feel too cold, I stood up to walk for a while, jumped and ran around, and then went back to my place. I would not fall asleep anyway, not with all the adrenaline flowing in my veins.

In the morning I decided to light a small fire to warm up my frozen breakfast and when I took off my gloves, found my fingers numb and hard to move. There was a prickling sensation to them. I cursed but after a while managed to regain some sensibility. After a few tries I lit the fire, and I praised myself for having paid attention while the servant girl tended to the fireplace in my old Erebor chamber. Then I ate hungrily and made myself hot black tea. Warmed up but tired from the sleep deprivation, I strode back to the road and followed it further on. I had no idea where I was heading, but was sure there would have to be some settlements scattered along it. It was a matter of luck if I managed to find one before I froze to death, but I was willing to take the risk. Not that I had a choice anyway.

As the evening began to fall, I once again left the safety of the road and headed towards some scattered rocks and trees in the distance. I was unbelievably exhausted and decided to have a good night's sleep by the fire. How surprised I was to find a cottage hidden just behind them! Smoke was coming out of its chimney, and I walked towards it to inspect who was inside. I saw an old woman through the window standing by a pot and cooking. Thick fog started to fall, heavy and smooth as milk in a jar, and suddenly I was desperate for a warm bed and human presence. Tears stung in my eyes as I longed for someone to say they were sorry for me. After a few minutes of uncertainty, I decided to knock on the door.

“Who`s there?” a suspicious voice came from the inside.

“I am a lonely traveller and I need a cover for the night. May I come in, please?” I tried to sound as friendly as I possibly could. I even smiled in the falling dusk.

The door opened just a few centimeters and an old judging eye glared at me. “Do you have money?”

I hesitated and then answered: ”I can share my provisions, good woman.”

After this, the door opened and the old woman sneaked out to check if I was really alone. “Come in then, darling.”

I stepped into the house, which consisted of the single large room. It looked rather clean, with herbs hung above the fireplace where cooked what looked like dinner. In the corner stood bed and a wooden chest, otherwise the place was empty.

“You can sleep on the ground by the fire. Your coat looks very noble - I hope you can bear such conditions, lady.”

“Oh, I am happy for that, thank you,” I said, while trying to suppress an uneasy feeling.

“Where are you travelling all alone in winter?”

“Family matters. I have to visit my distant relatives.”

She nodded knowingly, and did not ask further. She handed me a bowl of stew and I took out a loaf of bread which we shared. I massaged my fingers which once again felt numb and held them close to the fire. They had swollen since the morning and felt itchy. I mentally cursed.

We did not speak much. She looked like she did not need attention despite living this lonely life, and I was too exhausted to initiate a conversation. She placed a rag in front of the fireplace, I put off my boots and coat and laid down to rest. It must have taken seconds until I fell asleep because I do not remember anything after my head touched the floor.

XXX

What is this feeling? Someone is touching me… Someone is touching me! Wake up, quick! I struggled to open my eyes heavy from the unnatural sleep. When I finally came to my senses, I saw the old woman kneeling beside me, searching my pockets. I yelled and kicked her. “What the hell are you doing?!”

She did not reply and struggled to finish her search. But she was weaker and when she realized she could not possibly win, she reached for the poker and held it in front of her, pointing at my chest. “Get out of my house!”

I glanced around only to find out my clothes and bag were gone. “Where's my coat?!”

“Get… out!” she spat again and reached out for a blow. The poker swung dangerously close to my chin and I backed towards the door, my head swimming. She must have added something in my stew.

“Give me back my clothes! You can't have me walk out like this without boots and...uhhh... coat!” I demanded, reaching for the door handle, and when she made another attempt to hit me, I flung the door open and fell down a flight of steps, landing hard on the icy ground. I shook my head in disbelief. I felt warm blood streaming down my face in a thin string. The snow under my bare hands and feet stung, the blood drops forming tiny scarlet flowers, and the cruel truth struck me hard. I will die here. There is no way out.

I took in the chilly morning air to brace myself for my final stand, and struggling to my feet, I bumped into something. It was a heavy boot coated with fur and metal pieces. I looked up in despair to meet Dwalin`s gaze. He stood there with his hands across his chest, taking in the situation.

“Dwalin…” I whispered out of breath.

“What dwarvish scum have you brought here!” The woman yelled. “Get… out, I said!” The poker made a circle in the air, aiming for my head. Dwalin caught the weapon with his one hand, with the other grabbed the woman by her throat and yanked her to one side so that they were now both facing me, the enemy kicking and screaming. Stopping for a brief moment, his gaze met something behind my back.

I turned my head and gulped.

Thorin was watching us from the back of his black stallion just a few meters away. Around him a group of soldiers and a few other familiar faces. Motionless, his wild mane flowing in thick messy ropes down his shoulders, across the blue cloak I knew. His expression impenetrable, detached as a king should be, only the dark circles under his eyes betrayed him and the watchful night he must have spent in search for me. He slightly nodded in approval. With one smooth move, Dwalin slit the woman's throat, the blade breaking her skin as if it was of pure butter. She gasped for breath and collapsed to the ground, dead in seconds, her blood forming a red carpet all around. It was as simple as that. Taking life is the easiest thing in the world for a warrior.

Thorin dismounted and strode towards us slowly. He turned the corpse around with his foot and spotted a dwarvish golden bracelet on its hand. He snarled at the soldiers: ”Search the house!” and they sped in to fulfill his order.

Then he turned his attention to me. I dared not look him in the eyes, nor speak, so instead I just stared at the ground where the corpse was lying in the most unnatural position, its glossy eyes wide open. He reached out, pulling me towards the corpse, and forced both of my hands in the blood-stained snow. I struggled feebly, not daring to resist him in the open. My stomach felt weak, and I would have vomited, had it not been empty.

“How does it feel, slave?!” he spat, his voice full of hate. He was right. Her blood was on my hands. I killed her. Had I not escaped… Tears of shame and regret stung in my eyes. My voice shook: “I'm sorry, your Majesty…”

I risked a quick look at him now. Just one brief moment, and what I saw in his eyes made my heart sink to the very bottom. I understood that this time I had overstepped way too far, far beyond anything he could ever forgive. I had betrayed him, his trust in me, and all was lost. I saw endless anger, and what was even worse, endless disappointment. His jaw tightened as his icy blue gaze met mine.

“I'm sorry, Your Majesty… I'm so sorry…” I whispered only for him to hear, keeping my eyes low. He did not reply, and I started to sob. Suddenly I felt I was losing him, and the realization struck me unprepared. I needed his attention, in the strangest of ways. I needed his strength and guidance in this world I did not come to understand. He did what he considered right, from his point of view, even though I failed to recognize it. I was ashamed to the core. “I`m so sorry… if only I could take things back… I would never have left…” I pushed out in between the sobs. The blood stang in my eyes and I wiped it away with my cuff, it was not important now. “Will you ever forgive me? Please? I was so afraid...” I dared to look up at him.

He did not let me speak though. He made a silencing gesture and my apology froze on my lips all forgotten. He seemed to be judging the bleeding wound on my head for a brief moment. Then, probably having come to a decision it was not that heavy, he nodded towards Dwalin who helped me to my feet. “Let her dress,” he commanded darkly, “Then tie her to my horse.” My eyes widened and Dwalin grinned as he proceeded to fulfill the order. He retrieved my dress from the hut and threw it to me. I dressed hastily and he led me away to the horse. There he tied my hands with a rough rope and fastened the other end to the horn.

After a while the soldiers who searched the house came out. “Your Majesty,” saluted one of them, holding in front of Thorin a sack filled with golden trinkets, jugs and candlesticks. “The witch must have stolen from more, who knows what other crimes she had committed.” I shrugged. I was supposed to be dead by the evening.

“So much for a fair trial,” Thorin growled. “Leave the corpse as it is. The wolves will do the work.” Then he strode to his horse and mounted it. He checked if my rope was tied securely to his saddle and we set off.

XXX

We strode at a steady pace and it started to snow again. After a few hours I grew really tired and the walking exhausted me more than I would have thought. I dragged my freezing feet after me in the once-again deep snow but fought my body's needs, pushing it to its limits. I did not object how they treated me, I very much deserved it, and was willing to yield as far as I could. Obedience was the route to Thorin's heart.

We walked the whole day with just a single half-an-hour-stop for the men to eat and relieve their bladders, and then we went on. I was not given anything to eat and I did not dare to ask for a break for myself. I doubted they would let me go pee unguarded. So when Thorin left for a brief moment, I did what I needed where I was squatting in the snow, still bound to his horse. Nobody seemed to care.

It was surprising to find out that my route along the main road took twice the time it should have, as we saw the Lonely mountain rising in front of us the very same evening. It stood out from the snow-filled plain as a large finger pointing angrily to the skies. Behold the kingdom of the dwarves!, it said, and I had a sudden deja-vu. Just a few months ago I was entering this mountain in a very similar situation, weak and wounded. What had changed since then? I felt I was running in circles like a bug in an empty bowl, never finding its way out.

Chapter 13

  One by one

 Love's raised horns sound their sweet surrender

  And one by one

  Her defences fall debris

  My will be done

  I shall storm the gates where fates defend her

  And once I've won

  Her heart will belong to me

(lyrics by Cradle of Filth)

The dwarves dismounted the horses which were immediately taken over by staff and led to the stables to be tended to. We climbed the ten floors over the ground, on which I spent the last of my strengths. All I wanted was to lie down and sleep in my warm bed. Any bed. Just sleep and never wake up.

When I recognized Thorin's private quarters though, I rallied in anticipation of what was about to come. Unsure and vulnerable I was led through the red corridor, and I took in the familiar scent. Thorin entered his chamber and Dwalin pushed me inside in front of him. Then he closed the door from the inside and stood behind me with his arms crossed on his chest. Thorin immediately gestured towards my clothes and Dwalin stepped in to undress me, quickly and violently. I stood there all naked now but in a thin tunic, but Dwalin did not do me the last favour. He tore the tunic from my shoulders and it fell to the ground in two poor pieces. I covered what I could with my hands and stood there shaking.

Thorin took off his heavy coat and threw it on the bed. Then he walked towards me, slowly but ever so menacingly, and I saw his expression change from the regal mask he wore in the outside to the real Thorin, his anger now unleashed. He reached out and hit me hard, so hard I lay on the floor in a second. I touched my reddened cheek, shocked, but did not speak to defend myself. I deserved it. I struggled to my feet again, very slowly and unsure if I was allowed to, and he hit me once again, with even more strength. Now I was sobbing openly, my bladder betraying me as I lay there shaking and exhausted, and I hid my face behind my hands to cover my shame. A puddle was forming on the carpet under me.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?!” he stormed. “Escape from me like that would save you from anything, from yourself?! Do you have an idea what it means for me as a king? That I cannot handle my own slave! How can I rule a kingdom when my slaves do not submit? What message does it send to my subjects, my subjects who watch my every move, did you think of this when you were running away like a sick bitch?! I was too benevolent to you!”

“I had no idea… I had no idea.... Y0ur Majesty… I'm sorry,” I whispered between sobs, not daring to look up and meet his gaze.

“No, indeed you had no idea. Any dwarf in your position would now beg me to let him take his life in front of my eyes, to repay his debt and unloyalty. But you… you,” he was searching for words. I heard his steps as he was marching around the room.

“I`m so sorry, Your Majesty. I will do anything you wish,” I said, being pretty sure I did not have the guts to offer my life. He smirked knowingly. “If only you forgave me...”

“No. It will not be that easy, slave. I will make sure you repay to the very last bit,” he hissed, and I heard him kneel down beside me. He took me by my hair and lifted my face so that I had no other choice but meet his gaze. He held the contact for a brief moment, then looked down at the wet carpet under me.

“Very good,” he said, smirking. “We will continue with the hair now.”

With that, he took out his long knife and cut off a handful of my hair. And then another. I winced, placing both of my hands on his chest, squeezing the soft fabric of his tunic, partly to steady myself, partly to hold him at the arm's length.

“Do not move!” he commanded. “I am taking half of your hair now. It will betray your crime, from now until it grows back. Until then you will live in shame among us. Should you ever fail me again, all the rest will be cut away, and you will be sold to the slave-traders of the enemy. You are given one more chance, slave. Remember that well. Is that understood?” he growled darkly.

“Yes,” I pushed out between sobs.

“Good. Now don't move unless you want to get hurt.” And he placed the cold blade on my scalp and cut away the first hair, just at the roots, dangerously close to the skin. He worked quickly but efficiently, and I held my breath to minimize my movements. When he finished, I touched my head to explore the damage. The look on my face must have shown my deepest horror, because he returned his: “That will teach you manners,” while sheathing the knife.

I waited for his permission to stand up and leave, but it did not come. He slowly strode to a wooden chest from which he produced a large leather belt. For a brief moment he weighed it in his hand, as if judging if it was the right tool for my punishment. Having come to a conclusion, his features hardened, and I knew what was to come. My heart was beating its way out of my chest and my head went dizzy from the cold fear spreading in my veins. And then there he was again, breaking my weak struggle with extra force anger gave him, yanking me fiercely to lie face down on the floor. He placed just the tip of his foot on my shoulder, pinning me securely down in the position, and that was when I literally started to shake from the anticipation of pain.

He said one word - “Ten!” - and I heard the air breaking on the belt as it fell down and I screamed in pain. Then came other nine blows, each as slow and heavy as the former, well aimed from my back down to my bottom, and I wrung and cried and pleaded, but to no avail. When he finished, my back was all fire and blood and I was left with no power to move or speak.

The world was fading in black and white and I heard Thorin utter: “Dress her and take her downstairs. Through the main staircase for all to see.”

Then I stopped to feel and drifted to a world where no sounds dwell.

Chapter 14

I awoke to absolute darkness. I felt the cold rock under me bite in my skin and wet air chilling my bare feet. I was lying face down on a piece of thin cloth which was half covering me, but did me no good in fact. I was hurting in every way, not just my damaged back and bottom. The worst was the hot bruise I felt stinging on my cheek. I did not care where I was. There came no sound, just the echoing silence of my own troubled breath and water dripping in a thin stream somewhere close. After some time, my eyes got used to the darkness and I recognized a few shadowy shapes. The door. The tiny square room. The sharp surface of the walls ripped out of the mountain flesh. The empty bucket in the corner. Of course. I closed my eyes and dozed off.

When I opened them again, I realized there was subtle light coming through a tiny hole in the door. Then I heard footsteps approaching and silent chatter. The door opened with a screech and a tall thin figure walked in.

“My lady.”

Amarth knelt next to me, placing a lantern close by. He brought in fresh air and the scent of winter forest.

“Amarth... “

“Save your strength, my lady, ” he spoke in a hurry. “My visit here is against the King's orders for you to be left on your own. If you understand.” I was too tired to even nod, so I lay there, waiting while he examined my wounds. “If you allow me.” And he lifted my tunic hastily, up to my shoulders, baring my body as it was, full of fresh wounds in the torn skin. I did not care. Nothing mattered anymore. He cleansed the skin quickly and put an ointment on the wounds along with fresh bandages. Then he examined my hands and shook his head. “Squeeze my fingers, my lady.” I did as he said, weakly. “I cannot do any more now, I am afraid. Drink this, it will do you good,” and he produced a tiny flacon out of nowhere and made me swallow its contents. It tasted bitter but sent hot waves through my stomach and veins nearly immediately. I felt a little better.

Then he stood up and knocked on the door. “You must be strong, my lady. I will do what I can but given the situation…” And he left, the door closing behind him with a loud thud.

I dozed off to the troubled sleep again. I woke and dreamt and soon the boundaries between sleep and wake blurred until I no longer knew what was really happening. I saw faces leaning in from the dark, dwarvish faces, then snow fell and I lay on the forest floor under starry skies. I felt terribly hot and the snow brought away my pain. The mountain talked to me. It spoke its anger of being cut in pieces by the merciless hammers and mattocks. It sang to me of the glory of its immense underground treasures which still lay hidden from greedy eyes. Of deep crystalline lakes of cool fresh water in its depths. I saw myself lying on the ground in a deep underground dungeon, barely breathing, and my head felt strangely light, my senses sharpened. I rose above the mountain, playing along, chasing the winds, and in the labyrinth of the corridors beneath saw thousands of tiny lives moving, dwarves and animals, working, fighting, laughing in bitterness and joy. I saw the king in his lonely chamber, sleeping his restless sleep. Then the mountain spoke " Return to the lake when the storm rages"...  and I started falling back to my body through an abyss, backwards, facing the skies.

I opened my eyes gasping for breath. I saw Dwalin`s face leaning in and mutter something, but I could not make up the words. All fell into the deafening silence again.

XXX

 “My lady, let me help you now that I can,” Amarth offered, placing a large bowl of water next to me. I blinked hazily, my head still dizzy. I peeked out of the window. Bright winter sun came shining in the chamber, my chamber, my bed. Cosy fire was lit in the fireplace, its flames licking at apple tree wood, as I recognized by the scent. Amarth was seated by me on the bed among various healing necessities he had brought with him, and by the doors a dwarvish guard stood, expressionless.

 “Thank you Amarth,” I tried to mouth but no sound came from my cracked lips. I coughed. “How long…?”

 “Do not speak. I am allowed to talk to you only regarding the matters of your health. If you understand.” He explained silently and I glanced at the guard. I nodded and took the first look at my hurting hands.  The skin had turned red and dark brown at some places and tiny blisters started forming. I moved my fingers to try them and hissed in pain.

 “Here,” Amarth said, placing the bowl closer. “They have been frostbitten. Put them in. We must slowly bring them to normal temperature.” I obeyed, frowning at the movement. I did not know where the pain came from as the fingers felt numb. In the meantime, Amarth examined me thoroughly, his attentive gaze stopping at my once long hair and the skin of my face. It must have shown some change in colour because he shook his head disapprovingly. I stared at my hands, feeling blush rising to my cheeks. He did not comment on my state though, instead he placed a piece of clean cloth on my skin. It felt soothingly cold, and tears stung in my eyes.      Look at where you are now, you silly    , I thought to myself.      For them all to see    .

 “Can I look in the mirror please?”

 Amarth hesitated for a moment before holding the mirror in front of me. At first I could not believe my eyes. I did not recognize the broken person staring at me from beyond the messy, blood-cloaked hair, at least what remained of it. It was neatly shaven on the whole left side of my skull, just as close to the bone as possible, making me look like a man. Like a defeated man. Exposing my bruised left cheek where Thorin's hand fell twice. I gasped and averted my gaze.

 Amarth stayed for about half an hour, helping me to sip a few spoons of hot broth, while my hands bathed. Then he left along with the guard, promising to come back soon.

Chapter 15

Amarth indeed did return, in fact he returned several times that day, and the days that followed. Each time bringing a bowl with water warmer than before, and slowly I started to feel my fingers tingling as they sucked in the warmth.

“Let us see if your sense of touch comes back again. I cannot promise it will, though,” he stated between changing of my bandages, and I sighed.

I spent several days in bed just like this, hurting, exhausted and alone. Nobody came to see me, not even Gloin or Dis, and I felt trapped as if in prison, a much lighter and warmer prison, but it did not make much difference. The door remained locked from the outside now. As the long lonely hours passed, a single thought of opening the window and just jumping out crossed my mind. I pondered on it for a brief moment, but decided against it. I did not have the guts to kill myself, and what was the worst, I did not know if it was good or not.

About a week after that Thorin showed up. It was early morning, I was staying in bed as usual, all tucked in the covers. He strode into the room, wearing dark leather pants and a burgundy tunic, and the air changed as he glared at me from under his thick eyebrows. He walked around the room as a lion examining his territory, checking on if his orders had been carried out to the last bit. Then he stood above me, arms crossed on his chest, and uncomfortable silence filled the room. My heart started to pound faster, and I looked down to avoid his gaze.

“So,” he started, and his voice sounded deep but strangely cold. “Do we still want to fly? Or have you changed your mind as women like to do so often?”

“No! I will not try to escape any more, your Majesty. I would like to apologize to you, I really would like to…” I whispered, keeping my eyes downcast. “I know I had overstepped too far. I have failed you. I am sorry for that. I will not leave unless you wish me to, I promise. I swear.”

He snorted. “No, you will not.”

He sat down on my bed, his features stern. “Show me,” he said, pointing to my hands. I stretched them out meekly and he studied them with a frown.

“You wore gloves, did you not?” He interrogated, his brows slightly lifting in surprise.

“I did, your Majesty.”

“You seem weaker than other women.”

“Perhaps… I cannot judge on dwarvish women, I barely know any,” I mouthed slowly, carefully weighing every word on my tongue. “I am used to cold, but…” I stopped as my voice broke.

He did not interrupt me, which felt even worse. Instead, he moved closer and leaned in to watch me intently. When he spotted the last traces of a bruise on my cheek, he frowned. I blushed deep red, avoiding eye contact. I felt his one finger under my chin, gently forcing my face up. My chest was filled with heavy emotions ready to burst out at any second by then. He traced the line of my jaw with his thumb, ever so gently, stroking my cheek with a feathery movement.

“I do not wish to see any more bruises on this face or body. It is a shame to waste such beauty for nothing. You must be wise, little one.” He stroked me again, gently. “I do not wish to hurt you, you see. I do not wish to break you. Is it so difficult to just submit to me?” He asked patiently, as if scolding a child. I guess this was the closest he could ever get to just saying I'm sorry, in his own strange way. He smelled of new leather and spices, and it reminded me of the day we had met.

“You… you scared me, my lord. I am sorry for what I did, but I was just too terrified of you.”

“How come? It has been several months since I found you. You should have already forgotten the incident. You have been taken care of. You have home and food, you are safe now.”

Seeing my expression, he asked directly: “Do you fear men?” Such a plain question and such a strong reaction.

‘’Yes,’’ I nodded desperately in between sobs.

He exhaled loudly, never stopping his interrogation. “Did the orc rape you? Answer me honestly,” he asked darkly, clenching his fists now. His gaze hung on my lips but I could not answer. I just could not. He swore and hit the side of the bed angrily. Then he stood up and started pacing around the chamber while I sobbed. His anger made him look savage and unpredictable. After a while he sat down again, more composed.

“Kate, you are so very different. Any dwarvish woman would have already recovered in your place, whatever it is that happened to you. This is not possible.”

“But I'm  human  ! I don`t have your stamina, obviously! I have my bruises and they may last until I die in the first place. I need time, a lot of time, your Majesty. And although I'm trying, I keep on doing things which in your world are understood as mistakes. I'm sorry for that. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do to make things right, but I am the way I am,” I said shakily.

He watched me closely, the storm in his eyes betraying his feelings. He was breathing heavily now. He leaned in menacingly, although I think it was not his intention to frighten me any more. It was the anger rising. He touched my shoulder, the line of my neck and stroked my cheek slowly, consciously. Our faces were now so close I could feel his breath on my ear and heat emanating from him. He remained like that for a few seconds, solid as a statue, and when I did not flinch, he gently nibbled at my earlobe. It sent warm wave through my body, to my surprise.

“No harm will come to you in these halls, Kate,” he whispered in a deep set growl. “I will give you your time. Although, given your quick responses to my advances, I think it might be less time you would consciously choose.”

I gulped at that and he laughed throatily. It was the first time I saw him actually laugh, and it made him look so charming that my heart ached. He pressed a chaste kiss on my lips and straightened his back.

“Now,” he said much more cheerfully, “It took Amarth whole day to convince me to let him examine you. You should thank him for that. He says your hands should heal soon, and I hope they do,” he said, the warm sparkle never leaving his eyes. I realised Amarth did not tell him about his secret visit in the dungeon, but I kept my mouth shut. Thorin looked so boyishly carefree that I did not have the heart to ruin it for him. Or me.

“My fingers still feel numb. I hope he is right. I'm starting to lose faith in elvish medicine.”

“Don`t, Kate. They will get better.” He took my hands in his, careful not to touch the blisters, his palms flat against mine.

“Your Majesty?”

“Yes.”

“May I borrow a book from your library? Any book, really. I`ve spent here so much time alone.”

“And you will carry on in that way, Kate. Your crime is not yet forgotten. But I will do you the favour, yes.”

“Thank you.”

We remained like that for quite some time. We spoke of unimportant things, such as weather in these lands, food available in winter and trade with friendly nations. I tried to explain to him what chocolate tasted like back in Norway, and he said he would have his cook prepare sweets better than my chocolate. I could not believe we could ever have such a nice conversation. This new Thorin felt very refreshing.

He left after about an hour, with half-smile on his lips.

“Rest now,” he said, and I obeyed.

Chapter 16

 My days grew long and nights even longer. I nearly forgot how humans (and dwarves) looked as all kept Thorin's orders not to interfere. Thorin did not come back for other two weeks but Dis started appearing instead, and Amarth, who spoke to me again.

 I was astonished when Dis stormed in one day to hand me over a book I was already familiar with:      The tales of the dwarvish kingdom. Collected myths, stories and legends of the ancient folks.    I was so grateful that I laughed happily at her, thanking her that I would have something to occupy myself with.

 I started to eagerly read the manuscript which looked quite old, its pages yellowed with age and letters written in strange shapes, but still readable. It contained various stories which to me sounded like fairy tales, but nice to ponder on. Until I came across a short record of two men who emerged from a lake in Rhovanion during an evil storm to show themselves to astonished native people. It stated it had happened three centuries ago and their further fate remained unknown. I was shocked. Was this just a coincidence? Why did Thorin lend me the book? I decided to learn more when given the chance, but then I remembered the promise I had given to Thorin and my heart sank. No, I cannot do this, I cannot leave even if I knew how to do it. I swore to him. Damn!

 xxx

 It took another week until I was let out of my chamber to resume my morning duties. When Thorin's door opened for the first time after the ages of my solitude, I had a strange deja vu of him peering at me from the entrance, his dark figure against light of the day. I made a small curtsy, keeping my eyes low, greeting the king silently, and he let me in with a slight nod.

 I poured fresh water into the washing basin, trying not to spill a drop. I felt his gaze on my back, he did not move nor speak, but I knew he was there, still in the shadows of the early morning. The mountain was  sleepily silent, but I could hear my heart pounding its way out of my chest. I finally finished what I was doing and stood by the toilette table, clean towel hanging from my arm. I waited for him to speak first.

 “So, my little slave has returned. How does it feel?”

 “Thank you for asking, your Majesty. I am glad I am back. It is better than I would have expected.”

 “Of course you are,” he smirked, lowering above the basin.

 I did not answer. Instead, I studied the chamber for any changes. It remained the same, dark and luxurious, suffocating with pompousness and with what I could call a certain sense of weight of the crown. Could there ever be such a thing? An orphaned harp stood where it had been left, with no trace of dust, but still it felt out of place here.

 “Umm… Does anyone play it?” I pointed at the instrument after a while of odd silence when he was washing his face.

 Thorin looked up at me with a surprised expression.

 “No, I do not play it anymore. Since the dragon. Strangely, it survived all those years. The strings would not be usable anymore, though.” He was studying it, as if trying to remember what it actually was and if it meant anything to him.

 “It is beautiful.”

 “It once was, aye.” He abruptly turned back to the basin and poured some water over his head. I handed him the towel but he shook his head in disapproval. “Your turn.”

 I swallowed and took one step closer to rub the water away from his skin and hair. He stood tall and I could not properly reach where I needed, and he did not even try to make it easier for me. He was playing with me, and obviously enjoying it with a hint of smirk.

 “Come closer,” he advised, and a sudden thought came to my mind. I circled him to step behind his back, indeed closer, and reached out with the towel. I smiled to myself for this little victory, but he growled and pulled me in front him. “Resistant, are we?” he muttered darkly and pulled me even closer, squeezing my shoulders in his iron grip. My breathing quickened, and I felt panic rise once again in my chest, ice cold as the mountain in winter.

 “No, please… I’m not…” I whispered, keeping my eyes downcast.

 “You have turned pale,” he said, holding me at arms` length to look at me properly, then abruptly loosened his grip. “Go and sit there.” He pointed to the armchair by the window. I obeyed quickly, grateful and relieved, and rested as he had ordered. He walked towards the table, poured water from a large jar in a glass and handed it to me.

 “Drink.”

 I hesitantly took it and swallowed a few sips, trying to compose myself.

 “Have you finished the book?” he asked out of the blue, seating himself in the opposite chair.

 I blinked. “I have, your Majesty.”

 “And?”

 “Thank you for it, I enjoyed it a lot. It made me understand a few things about these lands.” I felt a little better, my courage returning to me with every passing second. I wondered where was this charming and warm man I had talked to the last time, and if he would ever show up again.

 “Which are?” he lifted his eyebrows.

 “Well, your culture, your beliefs. I found one of the stories particularly important…” I looked down at my hands with a pause. He did not ask which one, so I glanced at him and saw his features had hardened, menace written in his eyes.

 Oh, he knew very well what I was referring to.

 “So… if you are asking if I am planning to escape to the lake because of it, then the answer is no. No, I'm keeping my promise. My place is here until you decide otherwise. Although I'd like to explore that possibility, if you allow, of course.”

 “You are starting to learn your manners.” The tips of his mouth curved in a half smile.

 “Thank you, your Majesty.”

 I have passed the test. This time.

Chapter 17

 “You need to get used to me, Kate,” were the words which shook me right next morning. I was standing at the open window to let the fresh morning air in, making up the king-size bed, arranging the pillows neatly.

 Thorin walked out of his closet with bare chest, throwing his tunic on the bed.

 “My lord…”

 “It will happen whether you fight it or not, we both know it. The sooner you let go, the better for you. No more excuses.”

 He closed the distance between us in two long steps, reaching out for me as naturally as for a glass of water. He pulled me to him before I could react and forced my arms around his waist.

 “Shhh… I will not hurt you,” he proclaimed in a soothing whisper and stood still, his arms hanging by his hips. I let him go with a silent scream but he grabbed my hands immediately and wrapped them again around his naked waist.

 “Do not make me repeat myself,” he growled, holding me securely in place where he wanted to have me once again. I fought shakily, but he was too strong for me to win this. I panicked and yelled my “Please don’t!” at him, but he squeezed both my wrists with one hand. With the other he patted my hair briefly.

 “Do not fight, and I will not advance,” he announced and waited for the words to sink in. He was looking down at me, his head slightly tilted to one side, his eyes searching for the sign in mine that I understood. A waterfall of dark hair cascaded down his shoulder, making him look feral and playful at the same time. I breathed out and gave up my fight, just to try the effect.

 Thorin stood still, eyeing me from his height, and when I did not move for a few seconds, he gently pressed his fingers to the small of my back and pushed me to him so that I was now leaning on him.

 “Better,” he hummed into my hair. It felt very odd, I was not prepared for this delicate show of intimacy. I was still shaking, but when he did not try to touch me in any other way, I just gave in and stood still, taking in his masculine scent and the softness of his skin. I felt his chest move as he breathed, his lips slightly parted as he was watching me - his prey, waiting, and I dared not look up, so I just rested my forehead in the crook of his neck. Silence fell between us, and I was afraid to move or speak, but the solid statue that he had turned into strangely offered comfort and strength I could depend on. My muscles relaxed and I let out out a small sigh of relief before I could consciously stop it.

 We remained like this for good two minutes and then he just stepped away to put on his tunic.

 “You may bring in my breakfast.”

 I blinked a few times and left for the kitchen, on wobbly legs.

  XXX

 We went on like this for the next three days, Thorin making me hold him, but never advancing, and I felt like a frightened animal being tamed, slowly and skilfully, like a mare being hushed and soothed into sweet oblivion until she was eventually saddled and made into a possession with the air of finality. I had to admit that it did feel good, in a sick way, and I started to enjoy the fake intimacy the process offered. I did not flinch nor fight, and Thorin kept his word of not touching me improperly. I realized that I trusted him and willingly came to his arms once he gestured for me to do so, with a knowing and satisfied smile gracing his lips. “Good girl,” he used to say, and my heart trembled with joy of being praised and my body hungrily devoured the touch of his warm skin. Oh, how screwed I was with all my loneliness that these simple gestures and expressions helped to keep at bay!

 The days flowed slowly and placidly and I calmed down. It did not last long though, as the still surface of our ordinary days was stirred by a foreign delegation.

 They came from Rohan one early morning, as I was told, to negotiate possible alliance against the common enemy. After the last battle, the orcs have moved south and were much scarcer in numbers in the lands surrounding Erebor. But that posed possible threat to Rohan.

 I saw them briefly, men on tall horses and in shiny helmets, riding proudly and erect through the main gate, and my heart started to pound violently at the sight of my own race. They dismounted, the horses were led into the stables to be taken care of, and Thorin and his high-ranking generals came out to meet them and exchange greetings. For the first time I saw Thorin wear his crown and was surprised by how regal and official he looked, exact opposite of his normal attire. This must be something big.

 They were staying for several days already, Thorin being out whole day during the negotiations.

 On that particular day, I was performing my duties as normal. I tidied up the king's chambers diligently, and was now sweeping the floor in the corridor where the red carpet did not reach. I heard silent footsteps, and when I turned around, I saw a tall blond-haired man walk by. He glanced at me briefly, and having caught my stare, he stopped and returned in his tracks. He studied me for a few moments suspiciously before speaking:

 “I am afraid I do not know you, my lady.” He bowed his head ever so slightly.

 “Oh, I'm not a lady, as you can see,” I pointed at the broom with a smile. “My lord,” I added quickly and lowered my gaze. My heart was beating wildly with joy that I was speaking to a human, and was flattered at the same time by his display of respect.

 “I see. May I know your name? What are you doing in these dwarven lands? I have not seen here any kin of ours but you.”

 I hesitated for a moment. “I`m Kate Evans,” I explained briefly and suppressed the urge to shake his hand. Instead, I bowed slightly, at which he gave an acknowledging nod. “And… I do the cleaning here… basically.” I bit my lip, which did not escape his attention, for he lifted his chin stubbornly and frowned.

 “Is something wrong with that, Kate Evans?”

 “N-no. I did not catch      your     name...” I tried to change the subject as I felt this was not the proper topic to talk about.

 “I am Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark,” he saluted, for a moment turning into the shiny soldier that he was. “Where are       you     from and was has led your steps to Erebor? It is most uncommon for humans to serve under dwarf masters in such deep places. And why is your hair shaved off?”

 Those were too many hard questions. I inhaled deeply before trying to explain in the most neutral tone. “From far away, my lord. My fate has led me here. And no, I am not a servant, I am a slave, if that is what you wanted to know. And I disobeyed my master once, so...” I rubbed my hands uncomfortably and looked down to check on my nails. I needed to do that right now.

 “That is most unfortunate,” genuine compassion softened his features. He locked his dark eyes with mine before asking in a husky voice: “Who is your master?”

 “His Majesty.”

 “The King himself?”

 “Yes,” I confirmed.

 Surprised silence fell in the dimly lit corridor and then he nodded. “It was not my knowledge that the dwarves indulged in slavery. But I am sure Thorin would be the most righteous master, by his ways during our negotiations.”

 At those words something inside me broke. I did not know what I had been expecting from this stranger, after all. Stupid me.

 “Indeed.”

 His scrutinising eyes lingered on me a little longer than necessary but then he just turned and briskly walked away.

Notes:        

I fully realise that Éomer was not yet born when this was happening, there are still a few more decades left, but well... He is just too gorgeous to be omitted!

Chapter 18

 I did not see Éomer after that for a few days, until the last evening before the delegation`s actual departure. As far as I overheard, the talks had been a success, and both realms agreed on mutual help and intelligence sharing against the remainder of the orc hordes pillaging the vast plains on the southern borders.

 On that day, Dis stormed in as always to inform me that my presence was needed at the feast to be held tonight. To my question why she explained that a gossip about a human slave in Erebor had spread and the Rohirrim expressed interest in me serving for them tonight.

 “Thorin had agreed to that as a token of goodwill,” she said with an eyebrow lifted high. I swallowed my pride at that and tried to get out of my head the image of me being paraded in front of the foreign soldiers as a caged animal. Nevertheless, Dis sent me to the kitchen where I was instructed how to serve the meals and fill the wine goblets properly. It was not difficult at all, yet I felt nervous for no obvious reason.

 XXX

 The feasting hall spread long and vast with its high ceiling and marbled pillars and walls. They shone with hues of the darkest green and grey with golden veins, invoking uttermost beauty and splendour worth the majestic dwarven kingdom, for all foreign eyes to see. The hall breathed with cold, and I shivered involuntarily. At the long table were seated the horse riders, along with dwarven officials and Thorin at the head of it. Éomer to his right at the beginning of the long line, leaning closer to Thorin in silent chatter as they waited for the dinner to be served. He raised his brown eyes when I and the army of servants marched in, and nodded towards me ever so slightly in a silent greeting. I gave a small curtsy in return and then noticed Thorin watching me with a frown. The evening was starting in a strange manner. I swallowed hard and proceeded to serve the meal to Thorin, and then to Éomer and all the others in the line. Soon after that, the general mood had risen, lifted by the delicious food and wine, and the guests hailed and cheered to Thorin with their chalices held high. I smiled at that and finally started to relax. The evening got on the right track. Although, I did my best to be as quick and invisible as possible when refilling their chalices.

 Later in the evening, after countless litres of spirits had been drunk, Éomer beckoned to me to bring him wine. I obeyed quickly and when I leaned in to pour it in his goblet, I felt a daring hand rub my buttocks. Shocked, I silently cried out and spilled the remainder of the wine in the jar. I glared at him angrily but what I saw in his glistening eyes made me swallow whatever words came to my mind. There was lust, pure lust and dark hunger but they vanished in a split second once he regained his reason and former elegant behaviour.

 “Look what you have done,” he uttered with a smile, and I managed nothing but saying my ”I`m so sorry” while sweeping the table with my snow-white apron. One quick glance at Thorin, who was watching us intently but did not make an effort to step in. I was wondering if he had noticed.

 “This slave of yours is very… unusual,” he said to Thorin lazily, with a half-drunken smile. “How come she has found her place here in the depths of Erebor?”

 “I have found her in the wilderness, she owes me,” Thorin replied, composed, not giving in any more details.

 “Oh, I see,” Éomer murmured. “Would she be available for selling? I know of a suitable place for her tiny hands.” He chuckled at his own joke. “Back in Rohan. I feel she should return among her own. The sunlight would do her good.” I inhaled sharply and looked at Thorin with pleading eyes.      Please don't do it. I will die if this monster gets me.  

 “She is not for sale,” Thorin answered matter-of-factly, in a neutral tone, but I could sense icy coldness between the lines. The threatening coldness which meant a storm approaching. I exhaled.

 “I quite like her,” Éomer did not give up, circling the top of his goblet with his finger casually. He was thinking of something, as if trying to mouth the correct words. A silent battle in his drunken mind. “Would you consider lending her to me for the night?” I gasped at that, terrified, and my hands started to shake. This is the moral man who rode with his back so straight up on his horse? The paragon of noble ways?

 Thorin leant in and frowned even more. More than I even thought possible.

 “Marshal, this slave is  not available for sale nor any other business. She is      mine,” he emphasized gravely and beckoned to me, his glare locked with Éomer`s. I hurried to his side, abandoning the wine stain on the table as it was.

 “Kneel,” he ordered sternly, and I dared not defy him here and now, in front of the staring audience, which already noticed something was happening and their joyful chatter died down. I knelt down on the floor with my hands folded in my lap and eyes downcast, thanking all the gods for the remainder of my hair which fell into my face and hid the stinging red blush which had spread on my cheeks. Thorin patted me on my head and then reached for a plate. He took a honey cookie and held it in front of my lips. I hesitated for a brief startled moment before I opened my mouth for him, and he fed me like a pet, shoving his thumb in my mouth gently so that I could lick it clean. I did as he wished, playing along in his little game of authority above me, imagining I was not there and this was not happening at all. I didn't know who of the two humiliated me more. But at the same time I was thankful for the known evil which Thorin represented. Better him than the blond pretentious jerk.

 “Obedient she is,” Éomer praised and the tip of Thorin’s mouth curved in satisfaction. The chatter rose again as the atmosphere in the hall loosened. No one seemed to be listening any more.

 “Not always, but we have sorted that out already. Have we not?” he leaned in to my ear, as if speaking of a nice little secret.

 “Yes, Your Majesty,”  I whispered, digging my fingernails deep into my palms.

 “Good girl,” he patted me again and then rested his heavy hand at the back of my neck. It felt strangely reassuring. By now I was sitting on my soles between the males, but so close to Thorin that Éomer could not reach me. I think that was Thorin's intention, an elegant solution to a diplomatic disaster. He fed me a few more cookies.

 Éomer was watching us from under his heavy lids. “When you get tired of her, think of me.” He reached for his goblet and grinned. “She would still be a good fuck.”

 Thorin laughed out but his grip on my bare neck tightened. “You have drunk too much tonight, Marshal. Our wine is strong, you do not know what you are saying.”

 Then he turned to me. “You may go and wait in my chambers,” beckoning to a guard who stood nearby to accompany me.

 I stood up abruptly, and throwing a small curtsy towards Thorin and then Éomer, I hurried out of the hall, followed by the guard.

 I was so freaked out that when I entered the chamber, I pressed my back to the door and had to take a few deep breaths to calm down. I did not hear the guard’s heavy footsteps though, and when I opened the door slightly, he peeked at me from the outside questioningly. I closed it again and decided to light the fire in the large fireplace to keep the darkness of the lonely chamber at bay. Then I lay down on the bed, planning to make it up before I left. For the moment, I was more than happy to be guarded and the king's quiet private chamber offered sweet solace to my nerves which I so desperately needed.

Chapter 19

I will have you on your knees

 And the beast I hold within

  Shall be fed with your hungering screams

(lyrics by Dark Funeral)

I awoke in the middle of the night still in Thorin's bed. The peaceful full moon was shining brightly at me from the large window, its silver light spreading quietly across the normally dark chamber. The fire had already died out. I yawned, and still sleepy, realized where I was lying. I stood up abruptly and walked towards the cushioned armchair by the window. I leaned my head comfortably against its back and watched the magnificent windless night in its silence, the shadows of the landscape frozen and not moving. I cuddled further in the armchair, lifting my knees up to my chin, and was thus lulled to sweet sleep.

A soft click of the door made me open my eyes, and then the sound of a key in the keyhole. The door was being locked. Thorin's tall figure stepped into the moonlight, but did not appear less dark. He looked around the room as if searching for something, until his eyes adjusted to the blackness, and I saw his expression change when he spotted me. I realized the moon was shining from behind me so my face must have remained hidden, probably still looking asleep. I quite liked the opportunity it gave me to watch him move unguarded when he thought nobody was watching. He walked towards the bed and took off his upper tunic and boots, leaving all of that casually spread on the ground, then sat on the bed, resting his head in his hands for a good while. He looked tired, his shoulders tense, but there was something strange about him, certain determination, anticipation. He stood up and walked towards my armchair slowly, questioningly. He reached out to touch my hair and cheek, and I realized this was the time I was supposed to wake up.

“Your Majesty,” I jumped, feigning surprise. I stood up quickly and made a small curtsy in a silent greeting. I wanted to thank him for what he did during the evening, but he did not seem to want to start a conversation. Instead, he just nodded, and rested his heavy hand on my shoulder. I could smell sweet wine and scent of leather from him, and it was not an unpleasant sensation. He massaged my shoulder slightly, then moving his attention to the back of my neck, until he finally pulled me towards him as I was already used to. But this time his hand continued to journey across my back until it reached my hip, and I shuddered.

“Your Majesty, I would like to thank you for what you did during...” I said shakily, which earned me his approving grunt while his other hand continued to wander around my behind. “Would you like me to fetch something for you…?”

“It is nothing you can fetch that I want, Kate,” he breathed into my hair, and I shook involuntarily, despite doing my best to fight my rising uneasiness.

All of a sudden, he released me and took a step back. “Now undress,” he said quietly, matter-of-factly. As if it was the most natural thing for me to do in front of him.

I could not believe my ears. “W-what?”

“Un-dress!” came the command in a deep-set growl, and my heart sank at that word. Oh no, please don't do this. I stood there shaking, uncertain what to do, terrified not to disobey and get punished once again, and my brain was working feverishly, trying to find a way out of this, find some excuse, anything.

“Your Majesty… I… I'm sorry to ask, but… what is wrong? You said you would give me time...” I blabbered desperately, squeezing my fingers in front of me in a pleading, uncertain gesture.

“Which I gave you. You have run out of it tonight.”

“But… why? What is different? You said- ”

“Do not make me repeat myself for the second time, Kate!”

“But you said you would wait! And I'm honestly doing my best to obey you, Your Majesty… to serve you as I was taught, I'm not even flinching anymore when you are close, is that not- ”

“You are making a good slave, indeed. But you do not  look  owned!” he growled, and the dark devouring fire which I had once seen sprang in his eyes.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“The foreigner wanted you because you simply look like you do not belong to anybody. I am not contained  in you. I cannot let that happen again. You are mine, and everybody needs to know.” He was becoming more and more passionate as he spoke, and when a soft sob escaped my lips at his words, he asked gravely: “Am I really that hideous that you react in such a manner?”

“No, not at all,” I hurried with my assurance before I could think of any consequences. The tip of his mouth rose in a self-satisfied half-smile, and I mentally cursed.

“So?!”

“I'm sorry, Your Majesty… but… but I just can't...” My voice came in a whisper so silent that I nearly could not hear my own words. By now I was shaking all over my body and a huge lump formed in my throat.

He frowned. His large hand grabbed my throat in the violent promise of strangling, his whole body rising as if he grew twice that tall. The transformation was so menacing that my knees went limp under me and I remained standing just because he was holding my neck in his tight grip. That was too much. I clenched my teeth, and slowly, painstakingly slowly, I rolled the sleeves of my dress down my shoulders. He let go off my throat at that and watched me intently, still on guard. After a few other agonizing seconds I pulled the whole dress down to the ground. I held my hands in front of my private parts though, as futile as it may have looked, to cover whatever dignity I was left, and thankful for the darkness which was partially hiding me. My mouth went dry, and I kept my gaze locked on the floor as if it could help me break any contact with him.

He slid his gaze across my body and then stepping closer, he turned me around so that the moonlight shone directly into my face. He cupped my breast and touched the ugly scars on my belly and thigh. And then on my back, those which he had inflicted himself. “What a shame,” he uttered under his breath, his voice deep velvet, and I gulped when he suddenly grabbed my hands and pulled them behind my back. His gaze lingered on the place where the soft hair grew between my thighs, and lay his palm flat against my lower belly. I shivered and felt warmth spread somewhere deep inside. His middle finger traced an imaginary circle on my sensitive skin. I was panting heavily now, and if it was from terror or pleasure I really did not know.

“Are you a virgin, Kate?”

The terror struck me with full force now. I cried out and fought with all my strength to shake his hands off and get away from him, desperately, as if fighting for dear life. But I could not stand his strong arms which pacified me immediately with their iron grip, forcing my hands once again behind my back in an uncomfortable position, just much more painfully now. I could not move unless I hurt myself.

“Answer me!” he stormed, and I started to sob. He gave me a few more seconds, and when I did not speak, he tightened the grip even more. I cried out in pain, then shook my head in defeat. He snarled at that.

“Were you a virgin  before  the orc?”

I shook my head once again, hot tears rolling down my cheeks in streams.

“At least I do not need to be gentle with you. I wanted to fuck you the very same moment I saw you out in the wilderness. Naked, all covered in blood, completely helpless and at my mercy. You were exquisite then, my dear. But I do not want to hold back anymore. I have waited for this for too long.” he finished bitterly.

My eyes widened at those cruel words, and I sobbed out my horror-striken ‘Oh no, please don't do this! Please, I beg you!’.

But he had gone too far to stop now. He loosened the grip just a little and spoke nearly tenderly now. “Do not fight, little one, it will only make things worse for you. And these tears,” he paused for a moment to trace their trails with his thumb, “You look even more beautiful with them. More like yourself, stripped to the bone.”

He leaned in and kissed me deep, pressing his whole body against mine tightly, the thin cloth of his tunic rubbing against my naked skin. And under it, the chiselled muscles of his chest and arms, iron-like, and he felt as solid as a mountain peak. At the edge of my horror-striken mind I realized that I would have appreciated this intense magnetism had this been under different circumstances. He pressed his lips on my neck and traced it with his tongue all the way down to my collar bone, then returned eagerly back to my ear to suckle at my earlobe.  He bit me hungrily, and when I cried out, he moaned, utterly enjoying my torment. Then he forced his knee between my thighs, grabbing me by hips and pressing me hard against the dark leather of his thigh. I started my furious struggle with the impossible. He interlocked his fingers with the hair at the back of my head and pulled down, bending my neck low in such a strange angle that I gasped for breath for a few miserable moments. Watching me closely, his lip drawn up to bare his upper teeth, he loosened the grip for just one breath and then pulled back again. My fingers dug in the cloth of his arms in a desperate attempt to stabilize myself, but to no avail. When I ceased to move, he let me breathe freely. And then all over again. Exhausted, after a few tries I gave up and went limp.

“Calmer now?” he smirked. I didn't even try to answer. “Good.”

Having me where he wanted to have me now, he once again grabbed my hips and positioned me so that I had to either stand on my tiptoes or press my clit against his leg. I did my best to maintain the position to avoid him, and while he was distracting me with hot kisses on my neck, I felt my feet inevitably get tired with every passing second.

“Let go,” he finally hummed, and just pressed me down. I let out a pained sob and he breathed in low whisper: ”Good girl. Relax now.”

And he ran his fingers around my skin in light, feathery movements, stroking my hair, down my breasts and belly, and then up my back and neck. I was utterly confused, panting heavily, and when he slid his hot tongue in my mouth, I realized my own tongue was answering him, moving in his circles as if in a dance. He added a few slow movements of his pelvis and I shuddered at the hot wave it sent through my body. I started to sob anew.

Taking no heed of that, he suddenly lifted me up in the air and headed for the bed. I screamed out and kicked him, taking him by surprise. He swore and let me go, but only for a moment, before he yanked me violently and threw me over his shoulder. He strode to the bed and threw me onto the pillows mercilessly. He took a second to take off his tunic, revealing his wide shoulders and smooth upper body. I struggled on my elbows to back away from him, but he was there again to grab me by the ankle and yanked me back. Then he knelt on the bed and pinning my hands above my head, lay down on me full weight, pressing the huge bulge of erection against my thigh. I whimpered under him in distress, my breath once again taken away by his muscular weight. He rose to support himself on one elbow, and with one free hand unbuckled his pants swiftly, not even bothering to take them off. At this moment, his long hair fell on my face in a dark cascade, and it felt so soft against my skin that I stared up at him in surprise. Our eyes met and what I saw in his icy gaze made me shiver - it was the victory of a hunter.

It was this moment that I realized the inevitable. This time I will not escape, no matter how hard I try.

Grabbing my legs, he forced my knees up so that they were now nearly reaching my ears. He planted a few hot kisses on my inner thighs, then took out his huge member and positioned himself in between. He pressed the tip of his stone-hard cock against my entrance and I whimpered in the anticipation of pain.

He moaned. “You`re all wet for me, little one.”

In one deliberate motion, he rammed his entire length into me, causing me to flinch and cry out at the searing pain. He waited for a few seconds to let me adjust to the impossible thickness, which was obviously not enough, and moved several times in a circular direction. Then he pulled his cock out of me and rammed it all the way in again, causing me to cry out even louder. I was sobbing openly now.

“You are so deliciously tight,” he growled in between the thrusts, keeping a quicker but steady rhythm. “You could convince me you are still a virgin.” Embarrassed, violated and in pain, I closed my eyes, turned away and tried to pretend I was not there and nothing of this was happening.

At that he stopped to move. “Look at me,” he commanded sternly.

When I refused to obey, he bit my neck so hard that I gasped, opening my eyes in shock.

Now he decided to lick and pinch both my nipples, and to my utter dismay, despite all the burning pain in my tunnel, I felt a hot ecstatic wave roll over my body, all the way down to my core. I bit my lip to suppress the sudden urge to moan.  I cannot let him know.  He resumed fucking me, only harder than before, sliding in and out of me with all the accompanying wet noises, and by his low grunts I could say he was close to his climax. A few more thrusts and he growled his release into my hair. I felt his cock move and twitch inside of me as he spasmed, riding out his orgasm.

Now he pulled his cock out, and I felt his warm seed spill between my thighs. And then on the clean blanket I had changed in the morning. I was all wet and slithery, and felt dirty in all the possible ways.

Thorin knelt on the bed, still panting, and tilted his head to a side, to look at his work. Teary, ravaged, shaking. Desperate.

“Now that looks better,” he said with a soft smile on his lips, as he gently traced my tear-stained cheek with his finger. “A well-behaving, obedient slave.” And he finally liberated himself from his pants, threw them on the ground, and lay down on his back next to me.

I shakily struggled to sit up. My womb, throat and wrists were all hurting and my head felt dizzy. I put my trembling feet on the floor.  I need to get rid of your seed.

“Where are you going?” Thorin asked leisurely.

I froze. “To wash myself, Your Majesty.”

“You should not roam around Erebor at night alone, not until the horse riders leave today morning. Stay here, Kate.” When I shrank, he added thoughtfully: “I will not touch you again tonight.”  He seemed to actually mean it.

I did not answer. I pondered on his words for a while but was too exhausted to even maintain my sitting position, not to speak about walking or fighting him any longer, so I lay down again on the other end of the bed, as far from Thorin as possible. I covered myself with the blanket and turned my back to him.

After a while I heard his silent breath become steady as he fell asleep. That was when I curled up with my knees up to my chin and started to sob, silently and bitterly. Sharing the king's bed, but still all alone.

XXX

  The orc was approaching me with an ever increasing speed. I turned around to run, but my feet sank deep in the ground as it devoured me, bit by bit, having turned into a lake of stinking mud. I screamed for help as he neared me, unsheathing his rusty weapon, and as I struggled for dear life to get out of the mud, it only sucked me in more quickly. The orc stood by me now, grinning victoriously, and leaned in to take a closer look at me.

I screamed my lungs out.

“Wake up, Kate!”

Darkness, absolute darkness in which also the full moon remained hidden behind the clouds.

I felt something near me stir and close in.

I screamed once again and shot out of whatever I was lying on but was immediately pulled back by an invisible hand.

“It was just a dream, Kate! Bad dream. Wake up now!” I heard a familiar voice whisper and then felt a hand on my shoulder, squeezing and rubbing me gently as he spoke. I burst into tears and threw myself in the arms of the figure next to me, crying hysterically, shaking violently between the sobs.

“It's the orc again!”

“I know, you spoke from your sleep. Hush now, little one, it was just a dream. Just a bad dream,” he spoke as he closed his arms around me and planted soft kisses on my forehead and eyelids. “All will be good in the morning.”

“But what if he returns?”

“Then I will scare him away and hunt him down to all ends of Arda.”

“Thank you, you are so kind.”

And he lay me down again, whoever he was, pulling me in his tight embrace as he spread on his back. I put my head on his chest, still sobbing, grabbing at his long locks as fits of crying shook me. I heard his steady heart beat powerfully, and was lulled into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter 20

 I awoke lying on my side. My head was hurting from the crying, my eyelids swollen, and I felt all shattered and in pain. As my blurred mind began to remember what happened at night, I suddenly realised where I actually was, and when I tried to turn around to check if Thorin was still there, I noticed a muscular hand resting heavily around my waist. He was pressed against my body full length and felt very warm in the chilly morning air. I needed to pee. And I needed to wash his juices off me, above all.

 Now, wide awake, I wondered how to stand up and not wake him up at the same time. I slightly wriggled but then froze as I felt him breathe out more loudly and his hand stir on my waist. A few more seconds, and to my utmost horror, it silently moved to my hip and traced my thigh. I felt something hard press against my buttocks and I whimpered.

 “Lie still,” Thorin whispered in my ear, his voice still hoarse from the sleep.

 His large hand cupped my breast and lazily continued all the way down to my stomach.

 “Nei, vaer så snill*... I'm sore from yesterday, Your Majesty… ” I tried my luck, and already felt a lump forming in my throat.      Not again, please.  

 “It will pass,” he hummed, and took my hair out of the way to bare the back of my neck. He pressed his lips to the soft skin and planted on it a few slow kisses, taking his time with me.

 At my second unsure “Please don't”, he laughed out, and to show me how irrelevant my pleas were, just flipped me over to my back and supporting himself on one arm, continued to explore my body. He laid his palm flat against my intimate parts and leaned in to kiss me.

 Just then, there was a knock on the door.

 Thorin swore and never letting go off me, shouted: “What?!”

 From behind the door came a hushed guard`s voice: “Marshal of the Riddermark wishes to speak to you before they depart, Your Majesty.”

 There was a dark sparkle in Thorin's eye as he looked down at me. He ran his finger through my hair absent-mindedly, pondering on the possibilities of the encounter. Then he smirked and whispered his “Stay here,” as he pulled the blanket up to my neck. He stood up abruptly, grabbing his leather pants from the floor where he had left them yesterday, and put them on. I watched his naked torso move in the dim morning light, the chiseled muscles of his upper arms working, but then averted my gaze bitterly.

 “Bring him in!”

 The guard`s footsteps echoed in the hall as he walked away. And then once again, the sound doubled, stopping in front of the door. Thorin unlocked and opened it wide, standing in the gape as a tower with his chin proudly outstretched.

 “Marshal.”

 Éomer, clad in full armour, stared at Thorin from under his high silver helmet. He looked tired with dark circles under his eyes but struggled it with a certain dignity, now that he regained his former regal countenance. His gaze slid from half-naked Thorin towards me lying on the bed. He swallowed hard.

 “Thorin. You did not come down to see us off. I wonder if it was because of the last night or because we are leaving this early,” he paused for a second, and when Thorin did not reply, he continued his speech. “I wish to part with you in friendship, for the sake of both our realms. Let me assure you I remain Lady Dis` humble servant.”

 “The friendship stays as it was, Éomer. No disruptions.” Thorin smirked, glancing towards me over his shoulder.

 “I am glad to hear that. May I apologise to your slave as well?”

 Thorin nodded briefly and stepped away to unblock the entrance. Éomer walked in the chamber and strode towards the bed, his footsteps heavy, his armour clinking as he walked. I shrank under the blanket, feeling my cheeks turning deep red. To my utter astonishment, he knelt on one knee and bowing his head, spoke to me.

 “I am sorry for my behaviour last night. I did not mean to insult you, nor do any harm to you. I deeply regret that, my lady.” And before I could open my mouth to speak, he took my hand and pressed his lips to it in a gentle manner. “I shall be forever grateful if you forgive me.” He let my hand go and waited with his head bowed.      Oh fuck, just like some Lancelot.  

 “Yes… umm, I mean… I accept your apology.” What a diplomatic answer.

 He immediately stood up, bowed his head slightly, and walked out of the chamber. He turned around at the door and glanced back at me and then at Thorin.

“I wish you well. May both Mahal and Béma* protect you.”

 “Fare well, Éomer. We shall meet again soon under merrier circumstances.”

 “Aye.” Éomer nodded and strode away. I could hear the echo of his heavy footsteps as Thorin closed the door again, smirking.

 “I would not wish to be in his shoes now, with such a hangover. What a pleasant journey he will have,” he said nonchalantly while grabbing his boots from the floor where he had left them the night before. He entered his closet and after a while walked out dressed in a fresh dark blue tunic over linen pants.

 “You may dress now.”

 As I stood up tiredly to do as he had said, he strolled to the table and reached for a carafe. He poured some wine mixed with water into a tall chalice and drank eagerly. Then he refilled it and turned towards me.

 “Drink.”

 I dressed in my rumpled dress as quickly as I possibly could, happy to finally have some clothes to cover myself with. Then I took the offered chalice from his hand. I hesitated briefly before bringing it to my cracked lips. Wine on an empty stomach, never a good choice. But then again, why not.      Screw it. I need it anyway.  

 Thorin was watching me intently from under his lashes as I drank. When I emptied the glass, he took it from me and lay it on the table. I looked at him questioningly.

 “You can take the bath you asked for last night. Come,” he said placidly as he opened the door and motioned for me to join him.

 Notes:        

Nei, vaer så snill. - Please don`t. (Norwegian) Béma - the Rohirrim venerated the Vala Oromë the Hunter, whom they called Béma

Chapter 21

 Not knowing what to expect, I followed him hesitantly through the corridor. At the end, he turned to the left and then several more times until we reached a distant passage I had not visited before. It was all dark stone with silvery veins but the walls were rough and any carpet was missing. I was wondering what he meant by a bath, so far I had seen no bathtubs in whole Erebor as far as I could go. I only washed myself in a wash basin during my stay.

 Finally, Thorin stood in front of large, ordinary-looking door. He opened it with a creak and a wave of hot humid air steamed out from the inside. He stepped in and turned back to me with his hand outstretched:

 “Come in, Kate, you will like it.”

 What I saw first in the room were three large pools sunken in the ground in what reminded me of the ancient Greco-Roman style, with stone stairs leading down inside. The floor was of polished stone tiles of sandy shades such as the walls, and as I stepped in barefoot, I realised in astonishment it was all warm as if underlain with underfloor heating. There were a few shelves with bath necessities scattered around the room. The air was filled with warm, intoxicating incense, and natural light was coming in from some hidden source.

 I exhaled. Such pampering beauty in such a harsh place! For a moment I forgot my troubles and drank in the soothing atmosphere.

 “I didn't know something like this existed in Erebor,” I uttered under my breath, my eyes fixed on the nearest pool on which rim lay a few filigran bottles of what looked like precious oils and bars of soap. I could swear I smelled subtle scent of roses even here.

 “The pools are filled with thermal water, we have a few springs originating here under the mountain. And, of course, the River Running,” he paused as he grabbed a towel from a nearby shelf. “They are of real value especially in winters such as this. The waters are then used for heating in the lower chambers. They are allowed to circulate until they thoroughly cool. A true masterwork of our builders,” Thorin explained proudly.

 I knelt next to the closest pool impatiently and sank my hand in it. It was very hot and I immediately withdrew it with a grin.

 Thorin smiled. “Try the one in the middle. They are of different temperatures.”

 I took a few steps to the right and sank my foot in the water. It felt pleasantly warm, and I suddenly no longer cared who was present at that moment. I took off my dress in a second, threw it on the ground and walked down a flight of steps into the pool. I waited a few more seconds to adjust to the temperature and then fully submerged into the water, withholding my breath. Dull, echoing silence embraced me, and I enjoyed it to the fullest.

 When I reluctantly resurfaced and wiped the water from my eyes, I saw Thorin had already entered the same pool. He was leaning against the pool wall with his eyelids half-closed, his hair and skin all wet, resting, not seeming to care about me. I decided to ignore him and enjoy this treatment as much as I possibly could. I walked towards the far end rim and took a soap which lay there prepared along with neatly piled towels and sheets of various sizes. I turned my back to Thorin and indulged in carefully washing my skin, my hair, my womb. I took particular care in cleansing the latter. I submerged once again in the water and took my place opposite the stairs into the pool, as far from Thorin as possible. Then I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of total void in my head. I felt the wine I had drunk a few moments ago hitting my head, the effect boosted by the heat of the bath. I hummed to myself in silent approval.

 I heard the water splash, and when I opened my eyes again, Thorin was standing in front of me with wide grin on his face. Slowly, he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine, ever-so-gently. I shuddered, and he tucked a strand thread of my hair behind my ear. The little gesture was so intimate and caring that I wondered if this was the same man as last night.

 “What do you want from me? What do you      really     want?” I shot honestly without thinking.

 He withdrew immediately and our gaze locked for a few long seconds. He blinked a few times, then leaned in again so close I could feel his breath on my skin, and said, his eyes deeply penetrating me.

 “I want you to spread your legs for me willingly, freely, and enjoy it as much as I do.”

 My breath hitched in my throat and it took a lot of effort for me to remain calm. “You know I can't do it.”

 “Yes you can. And you will.” He played with my wet hair as he spoke, so close now he literally pinned me to the pool wall. His powerful body pressed against mine in the hot water.

 “How do you want it this time, Kate?”

 “I don't want it at all,” I whispered.

 “Do not lie to me. How do you want it this time, I asked.”

 He pressed against me even harder, placing both of his hands on the pool rim, having me trapped in between. Alright then, I thought desperately. So be it. Maybe I will be lucky to finish it before it even starts. And without a warning, I grabbed his mighty erection and started to stroke it fervently, up and down, mechanically, shamelessly and efficiently. He moaned in surprise and stopped whatever he was planning to do, enjoying my attention with his eyes closed and lips parted. More sure now, I started to stroke him faster, and that was when he opened his eyes and tilted his head in a sudden realisation.

 “Oh no, not this way, sweet one.” He groaned, liberating his member from my grip and placing my hand around his waist. “Let me rephrase my question. What do you want me to do to you?”

 I shuddered once again. I looked up at him, in his sky-blue eyes now darkened with determination and the air of finality of his decision, and knew nothing more could be done, not even this time. I felt the intoxicating effect of the wine combined with sleep deprivation, the warmth of both Thorin towering above me, radiating strength and health, and the water infused with precious oils, and I was so exhausted that suddenly my head felt dizzy and I no longer cared. I swallowed hard.

 “Be gentle. Be as gentle as you can, please.” I heard myself say against all reason, as if from a distance, and could not believe the pleading, unsure voice which had spoken the invitation belonged to me.

 “No more fighting?”

 I just shook my head tiredly. At that, he leaned in and claimed my mouth, slowly, deeply, passionately, taking his time with me. His hands wandered around my body in large circles and I felt myself melting as an ice cube thrown into fire. A soft moan escaped my lips and he groaned into my mouth at that. He withdrew and placed butterfly kisses on my neck and ears, and it was so hard to resist the sensations it sent through my core that I shivered and dug my nails deep into his skin. He looked deep into my eyes and without a warning lifted me in the water so that it came splashing out of the pool, pressing me against the wall with a low gurgling grunt. I whimpered in distress, but he kissed my lips gently.

 “I will not enter you now, trust me.” He waited for a few seconds for his words to sink in, and then added. “Just wrap your legs around me.”

 Hesitantly, I did as he said, and he rubbed against my intimate parts, slowly and self-cautiously. His wet hair got in between our lips as he pressed them again against mine and I brushed it away with my free hand, feeling my last conscious blocks dissolving in the thick humid air.

Screw it, screw it all. I don't care, just for now.  

He continued to caress me, here and there planting soft kisses on my shoulder and along the collarbone, his narrow hips rested against mine, foreshadowing what might be coming later, still and unmoving, only occasionally suggesting a slight thrust forward. I realised my breath quickened and was coming in shallow gasps now, and I wondered how long he will be able to withhold his suppressed desire. He was squeezing me with more force now and his face turned to the mask of terrible, all-devouring hunger. His teeth were bruising my lips as he kissed me, and at one moment I whimpered in pain. At that, he withdrew from me, panting heavily, scrutinising me for a brief moment, and I thought that was the moment he would take me with full force. Instead, to my utter astonishment, he let go off me, putting my legs carefully back on the tiled pool floor, and lifted himself out of the pool, supported only by his arms. He rested for a few moments with his head slightly bowed as if to compose himself, then he stood up and walked to a shelf from which he grabbed a large towel. He carelessly rubbed himself dry, then took another one along with a bottle of what looked like some oil and walked back towards me. I noticed his massive erection even from here as he strode, his wet hair flowing down his muscled wide arms and chest. There were also a few scars and the latest, already healed nasty wound, which reached from under his armpit straight down to the ribs. The memory of the last battle. I had actually never seen him all naked in full light, and my breath hitched at the embodiment of the manly beauty.

 Aware of my wide stare, he squatted by the pool with a self-conscious smirk. He took me by hips and arms and in one powerful movement pulled me out of the pool, backwards, so that I lay on my back on the tiled floor. It was surprisingly warm and reminded me of a tepidarium used in modern sauna worlds. I let my body absorb the dry warmth as my tense muscles started to relax, along with a few strokes of Thorin's hand around my face, breasts and belly. Then he pulled me to a sitting position, and to my surprise, reached out for the second towel to rub me dry. Gently, soothingly he brought it to my face, hair and body, and did not stop until my legs and feet were dry too. He gestured for me to make room between my thighs, and I obeyed. Without even looking, he pressed the towel gently at my womanhood, never breaking the eye contact with me. The softest moan escaped my lips and he smiled with satisfaction. I felt blood rise into my cheeks.

 “Have no shame, my sweet one,” he whispered under his breath before licking at my neck. Then he gently pushed his hot tongue inside my ear, playfully, and this time I moaned loudly at the sensation and to my utter dismay, realised my thighs were shaking violently from the desire. I could not hold it away from him anymore, and he knew it full well.

 He reached out for the bottle, poured a few drops of its contents into his palms and rubbed them together. He then brought them to my shoulders and ran his fingers across my muscles, here and there giving a few light squeezes. The moisture was indeed scented oil, relaxing and intoxicating at the same time, and I could swear I felt in it subtle tones of a rose, lavender and some exotic flowers I did not recognize. He slowly pushed me back to lie on the floor. His hands continued their journey along my breasts, belly and down to my legs, and I shivered as he traced my feet and soles and massaged them softly, applying extra oil.

 The king tending to his slave`s feet, how absurd.

 Then he returned upwards, and spreading my legs gently, let the oil drop on my clit and flow further down to the floor. He brought his index finger down and traced my core with one feathery movement. At that, my back arched high and I moaned loudly, digging my fingernails in my palms. This earned me his deep-set growl, as he pushed the bottle aside, and mounted me quickly, settling himself between my wide-spread thighs.

 I no longer cared. I no longer thought. All I knew was I wanted my release, the little joy I believed I had earned after the long months of fear and inner pain, and if this joy was to come from Thorin, my goddamn captor, then so be it.

 He leaned in to ravish my mouth hungrily, then withdrew to take a good look at me, spread under him, a willing, waiting woman with passion in her eyes, and his features softened for a brief moment, before turning fiercer again. Holding my hips in place with one hand, with the other supporting himself, he placed the tip of his erection against my core and entered me in one strong, resolute movement. I gasped at the sudden intrusion, but he stopped briefly to wait for my walls to adjust to his enormous size. Then he resumed his movements and claimed me in long, deep and slow thrusts, his features all lust and passion finally unleashed. I was still sore from the last night, and the subtle burning pain reminded me very well of how very different the act felt this time, for as he continued to move inside of me, the pain subsided and turned into a brand new feeling - ecstasy in wild abandon. I writhed and moaned under him, as his thrusts became deeper and faster, his own breath coming along with growls as he rode me, the beast in him never taking over the control, as was seen in his determined features. At one moment he looked down at me and grunted:

 “Come for me, my sweet one.”

 And he bit me in the neck, more teasingly than fiercely, as he continued to ride me, and I felt my climax approaching rapidly. A few more powerful thrusts, and a hot wave of sweet pleasure rolled over me as I came wildly, washing away all my distress, fear and anger which had built in me over the months, and I released a loud tortured cry. Never giving me time to recover, he lifted my legs high above my hips to support them on his shoulders and rammed his cock inside me once again, thrusting in and out wildly, claiming his ownership of me. Finally, he growled deeply and came hard into me, and I felt his cock throb and twitch in my tight tunnel. Then he stilled and remained nestled between my legs for a few moments, resting on me, panting.

 Finally, he stroked my cheek with his thumb and pulled out, seating himself next to me. I rolled over to one side with my back to him, still panting, powerless, exhausted, pleased and utterly lost in a thousand contradictory emotions. Tears stung in my eyes, and I did not know why exactly I was crying this time.

 This man. I loathed him and at the same time was thankful for the joy he had just brought to me, however insane it sounded.

 He interrupted my train of thought by whispering from behind my back: “You will have to take another bath, it seems.”

 I glared at him.

 “You too!” forgetting I was actually being rude to the king, but did not care.

 He did not seem to be bothered by that as he stood up and strode towards the pool. I struggled to a sitting position, my head even more dizzy than before, then stood up clumsily, realising my legs were shaking.

 Seeing that, without a single word, Thorin returned to me, lifted me in his arms and carried me into the pool, watching his steps carefully not to slip. There, to my utter shock, he washed me himself, bringing the cloth gently between my thighs, cleaning thoroughly the remains of our encounter, and I could not help the feeling he was thus making up for the horrors of the last night.

 Did he feel guilty though? I could not tell.

Chapter 22

Right thereafter, Thorin led me to the dining room. I asked him if I could instead go to my chamber and get some sleep but he insisted that I eat first. I followed him to the room on the highest floor from where I used to take the breakfast for him. It used to be empty at early dawn, but this time I was taken aback to meet Dis who had been seated at the far end of the table. Her eyebrow rose as she saw us enter the room side by side, our hair all wet, and the expression made her resemble Thorin so much that I stopped dead in my tracks.

 “Sister! Good morning,” said Thorin, smiling. He walked towards her and bent down to kiss her cheek.

 “Thorin, good to see you! Join me and make up for your neglecting me all those mornings past,” she smiled back at him, pointing to a few empty chairs. Thorin chose the one opposite her and sat down heavily.

 “Would you mind a little company? My little slave would like to join us for breakfast,” he said playfully and gestured for me to come closer. I slightly bowed towards Dis.

 “Of course, good morning, Kate. Come and sit down.”

 “Good morning, my lady.”

 There were three free chairs separating the siblings, and I chose to sit on the one in the middle, right in between them. I folded my hands in my lap and watched them in a silent, tired anticipation, hoping we would finish soon so that I could retire.

 Thorin reached for a richly decorated plate and as a darwish maid marched in balancing other plates full of delicacies in her arms, he ordered her to bring me strong coffee first. The maid bowed and disappeared immediately. She was back in a minute, placing in front of me a cup of freshly brewed coffee, and an empty plate so that I could choose whatever I wanted. I put two spoons of sugar in it and inhaled the aroma deeply. My first coffee after… how long was it, after all? I could not remember.

 The royal siblings continued in an agreeable chatter, but I did not listen to them. My stomach was all shrunken, so after a while I just tried a few sips of my coffee. It tasted most delicious, and an unwanted memory of me and my friends sitting in my favourite cafe back in Bergen flashed in front of my eyes. My past life. It was now that it was out of reach that I could finally appreciate it, the little unimportant choices I could enjoy freely, and my problems which at that time looked enormous, were but futile issues of a spoiled child.

 “ - how pale she has turned. You should not be that demanding, Thorin. Have some mercy on her.”

 “You do not need to worry, sister. It is nothing a few more hours of sleep would not make up for. Besides, she is learning quickly. I do not think any more harder handling will be needed.”

 I lifted my eyes from the steaming coffee. Are they really discussing me as if I was not there listening? Decency of the Durins was certainly not something I could count on. But right now, I did not really care. The sounds and images came to me as if through a thick haze, owing to the wine, my troubled and exhausted mind, and all I wanted was to just be released and shut myself out in my chamber and make the whole world disappear for at least a millennium. And, most importantly, come to terms with the recent events.

 “Oh no, I know you too well, Thorin, you are enjoying this too much. Have her rest properly, have her eat properly, show her how kind you can be, how we all know you. Do not let her wither and or die trying to escape again, you do not want that, after all.”

 Thorin was listening to his sister with a slight frown, but he appeared not angered, but rather amused by her scolding.

 “You speak as if you were older than me, Dis,” he smirked, reaching out for another piece of cheese. Then he waved her complaints away. “As I said, she is making good progress and just needs time to process it all and adapt. Do not worry about that. What needs to be dealt with though are her nightmares. She is deeply troubled, even after all this time.” He glanced at me briefly before turning to his sister again.

 How the hell did he know?! I had not spoken of them to anyone, there was no way he could have…

 “What nightmares?”

 “Of the orcs attacking. I doubt she will ever sleep peacefully unless she gets over those. She woke up thrice last night screaming. It has been more than six months since I brought her here, sister, that is not a good sign at all.”

 “Oh,” Dis threw a sympathetic glance at me. “There should still be a way to help her cope with her past.”

 “Perhaps.”

 “Teach me how to fight.” My palm shot up to my mouth immediately to cover it. I had not realized what I was saying before I uttered the quick words.

 There were a few moments of awkward silence before Thorin spoke again, surprised.

 “The art is not taught to everybody that simply, and especially not to the lower ranking subjects. What do you expect from it, Kate?”

 “To be able to defend myself, under any circumstances, Your Majesty. If you grant me that wish, I would like to at least try.”

 “Let her try, Thorin, it will do her good,” Dis rushed in to help.

 Thorin took a deep breath and then, having come to a conclusion, said thoughtfully.

 “Very well, fight what you fear, Kate. Face the enemy within and turn your pain to hate, it will make you stronger. It might even help you regain your courage.” He paused for a long moment, his eyes turning to a distant point of his past which I could not reach nor comprehend. They flickered with a dark consuming fire before it died out again. “I will have somebody teach you how to fight. After all, you have earned it. With a sword, perhaps, or a sax, the axe would be too heavy for you. What do you say to that? A sword or a sax, which one do you prefer?” He leaned in as he shook off his memories, the tiny flame of amusement springing in his eyes now.

 My jaw dropped. The first actual thought was “      Whatever small to help me stab you in the heart at night    ” but naturally, I had to swallow it. What came out of my mouth was what they had expected, I think.

 “I do not know what a sax is, Your Majesty.”

 “A broad-blade knife, or a short sword, depending on its length. It is a better choice for your tiny hands.”

 “Then let it be the sax, thank you,” I answered blankly, hunching over my cup once again. Whatever, really. But I already felt the boosting effect of coffee as the cloud over my mind started lifting.

 Dis laughed out amused, pushing a plate with a few pieces of cake in front of me as she spoke. “This reminds me of      my     first lesson back when I was ten. I like the sax, it is a small weapon but deadly nonetheless. You will learn to fight like a dwarvish warrior, Kate, what an honour!”

 I managed a tired smile at her. “Oh, is it?”

 “Of course! And have some cake, dear, you need to eat something,” she urged me, bringing her cup of tea to her lips.

 The conversation had turned again to some unimportant topics for which I was grateful. At least they did not pay any more attention to me and I could enjoy the meal. After I had eaten everything from the plate which Dis pushed in front of me, Thorin gracefully dismissed me.

 “Go and have some rest. I will not expect your service tomorrow morning, so you may sleep longer and recover your strength.” I thanked him and as I did my curtsy before leaving, he added: “From now on, you may use the baths freely and without any company.”

 At this, my heart jumped with joy, and I sent him a genuine smile, because it really made me happy. After how long, I could not remember. Perhaps I had become too numb to certain feelings, this is what Erebor made of me.

 “Thank you so much!” I made another curtsy, not knowing how else to thank him. It is so strange that these little acts of kindness can make such a big difference, and now I was more than ready to welcome them, parched as I was for humanity.

 He smiled back at me, the carefree and enchanting young expression returning once again to his features, but then he waved me away impatiently, obviously having something else on his mind to be discussed with his sister.

 Just after I crossed the threshold, he returned to her, his voice was grave as he offered a strange solution:

 “You have certainly heard of the events at the feast. We do not have to do this, Dis, there is still time to take back your word before the preparations begin. I will not have you unhappy for the rest of your life.”

 “But what other choice do we have, Thorin?”

 “We can still find some other ally, albeit from a longer distance,” he spoke softly.

 “You know there are no other suitable options, unless you want me to marry an elf. Oh no, do not tempt me, not now that I have finally said yes. He might still be a barbarian who dares to bully slaves, but he will not dare to intimidate a lady. And if something goes wrong, I will return, he cannot hold me there by force. For the sake of Erebor. I might even have children once again...” she stopped as her voice broke.

 “Dis… ”

I did not hear more as the rest of the strange conversation died out when I hurried away through the dimly lit corridor.

(to be continued here and in my AO3 account: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satiah81/works)

[mythandlaur]

The Hornet Sleeps Tonight [Laur Steals Inktober Prompts, Day 1]

Prompt: Poisonous Fandom: Terraria Warnings: Insects, poisoning Notes: Guide/Dryad because I’m trash. Also I was getting burned out by the end of this and I really wasn’t sure where to go with it, so the ending isn’t great, but oh well. Not every one of these will be this long for the sake of my sanity, I just love writing them.

The Guide had never actually been in the jungle before.

Of course, he knew a fair bit about it, as that was part of his job. He’d even actually read about the area’s flora and fauna on the occasions he had time to, rather than simply accepting his intrinsic knowledge of the place. But he’d never actually gone--the jungle was notoriously cruel to those unprepared, and despite his status and condition, he wasn’t actually all that strong and tended to keep to the pure forests whenever he was waiting for the next hero of Terraria to arrive. True, the worst that could really happen if he did go was him dying, and that in itself wasn’t all that much of a problem for him, but it was still a rather unpleasant experience he didn’t want to go through more than necessary.

He’d still been rather curious, though, the heart of an adventurer still beating strong after all these years, and so he’d jumped on the chance when Alalia had hesitantly offered to show him her homeland after the last hero had been slain.

And so, the Guide found himself being guided by the dryad, walking several steps behind her. As they walked, the dirt under their feet gave way to mud, and the pure green of the Purity’s grass began to take on a more yellow tint. The air hung thick and humid around them (the Guide could understand why the dryads wore such scant clothing, he was already getting clammy in his worn gray sweatshirt) and the canopy of the trees closed in above them, nearly blocking out the sunlight. The sounds of chirping and buzzing and dripping water surrounded them, and as the Guide stared around in awe, he could swear he saw the vibrant flowers being shifted by some creature he just barely couldn’t see.

“Watch your step,” Alalia called back to him, tearing his focus from the trunks of the rich mahogany trees. She carefully edged around what looked to be a surprisingly large, muddy puddle as she spoke. “The animals may not hurt you, but the thorns in the underbrush will, and the piranhas wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”

Guide simply nodded in response, copying her route around the pool as they ventured deeper.   All the tension in her seemed to have drained away the moment they’d entered the jungle proper, and now she was making her way easily through the thick brush, without leaving a trace of her presence. It was almost like watching a fish swimming through the waters, and the Guide couldn’t help but watch her with the same sense of wonder as the rest of the environment.

“So, where are we going?” the Guide asked, his voice low as if he were afraid of disturbing the jungle’s ambiance.

“We will walk a short while longer, and then travel underground,” she replied without missing a beat, “This is not the jungle I hail from, but some of my sisters should be hidden there.”

“Are you sure they’d be okay with me visiting? I mean…”

He trailed off, grimacing. The Guide tended to not get along well with most of the dryads, or magically attuned beings in general--something about his ‘aura’ being wrong due to his condition. Even Alalia herself had nearly attacked him on sight before he’d gotten the chance to explain his circumstances.

Alalia stopped for a moment, glancing back at him, a slightly pained look tugging at the corners of her own lips. “You are with me, and I trust you. If that isn’t enough for them, I will try to make them understand.”

The Guide let out a long sigh through his nose and gestured for her to keep walking, which she did after a moment of hesitation. He followed after, struggling to keep himself from sinking into the mud as his mind turned to darker things.

Alalia’s people and the jungle at large had been close allies with the Hallowed creatures back when they’d still existed. The day the Hallow had been sealed, the jungle and its inhabitants had lost a large amount of its security from the spreading Corruption and Crimson, and Guide couldn’t help but feel like he was somehow partially responsible for it, despite it not really being him who had done it. It felt almost wrong being in her territory, an emissary of the thing that had taken away the jungle’s peace of mind.

As if him thinking of it had invoked it, Guide felt a stirring at the back of his soul and a chill at the base of his spine. His lips pressed together tightly and his fists clenched at his sides, his walk slowing.

“Just--just let me have this,” he muttered aloud.

“What was that?” Alalia looked over her shoulder.

“Nothing.”

Both of them knew it was far from nothing, but neither wanted to acknowledge it right then. Guide tried to shake it off as they continued deeper into the jungle, going back to admiring the scenery.

They made idle chatter as they continued, Guide occasionally asking her about the flowers and whether he recalled their names properly. The tension the moment had brought on quickly faded as Alalia rambled on about the plants surrounding them, speaking of them fondly as if each one were a treasured friend, and he couldn’t help but smile and get wrapped up in her enthusiasm, so much like his own.

After another while of walking, Alalia suddenly stopped. Guide stepped up to her side and found himself peering into a large opening in the earth. The light only filtered down a short way through the thick vines, but he could see a few ledges covered in jungle grass before they faded into darkness.

“You can climb, yes?” Alalia didn’t wait for his answer before jumping down the opening to the nearest ledge, landing gracefully in a crouch. She looked up as he gaped down at her, a slight smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “You’ll be safe, the jungle creatures won’t hurt you if you stay by me--just follow my lead.”

Guide nodded, despite the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure following her lead was physically possible. He crouched down, shifting towards the edge of the opening and calculating the distance to the ledge as Alalia stood up and watched him expectantly.

Guide made the jump, though his landing wasn’t nearly as graceful--he staggered and crumpled to his knees, then his face immediately upon impact. He could hear Alalia giggling as he spat several strands of grass out of his mouth, and she quickly grabbed his arm to help him to his feet.

“S-sorry,” she said, still laughing, raising one hand to cover her mouth. “Perhaps it would be better if you used rope.”

“I didn’t bring any,” he mumbled, his face a little pink.

Alalia raised an eyebrow at him, that same knowing smirk on her face, before turning and walking up the ledge to where some vines hung from the ceiling. She easily tore down a handful of them and began to work.

It wasn’t long before she had a useable length of vine rope for him, and this was how it continued; her jumping from ledge to ledge with practiced ease, him setting the rope and climbing down after her. He had brought torches, but out of respect did not place them, instead getting her to hold one to show him where to throw his rope as the light from the surface faded into a green-tinted, murky darkness.

The sounds of the jungle seemed even louder in here, a buzzing and chirping that echoed around what seemed to be a cavernous open space. A particularly loud buzzing caught his attention as he was letting out a longer section of rope for a vertical drop of at least a few yards.

Guide glanced around nervously and caught sight of a faint shape in the darkness, causing him to freeze in his work. “Uh, Layli? Can you hold that torch up a little more?”

Alalia obliged from the ledge below, but the light didn’t reveal more than a vague shape with stripes--at least as big as Guide was. He swallowed hard, his gaze fixated on the thing making the loud buzzing and seemingly coming towards him.

Alalia seemed to notice his worry. “It is a hornet. It won’t hurt you.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Guide hesitantly looked away from the hornet and continued spooling out his rope, trying to keep focused on his task and not the buzzing that was definitely getting closer now.

He heard Alalia shifting on her feet. “What is it doing? It--no, no, stop.”

“Me stop?”

“No, it’s--the hornet, it’s acting a bit…”

Before she could finish her sentence, there was the sound of something small whizzing through the air. Guide felt a sharp pain blossoming across his shoulder blade and let out a cry, nearly toppling off the ledge in shock. He struggled to scoot himself away from the edge, the hornet circling above him and still buzzing in what the Guide could only interpret as anger.

“Guide!”

He heard Alalia calling out for him, but it was faint as the pain began to spread across his back, his entire left arm going numb at once. His stomach began to churn and he immediately felt ill, curling in on himself as if that would help him. Another stinger struck him, this time in one of his legs.

His vision went blurry and his leg went dead and he groaned in pain, screwing his eyes shut. He heard rustling and shouting and the buzzing fading into the distance, and footsteps in the grass nearby, and he was being shaken and his upper body was lifted and he thought he was looking into Alalia’s face now but the pain was increasing into an agonizing fire along his back and leg, to the point he could almost believe he was in the process of being sacrificed.

Guide managed to focus through the pain just enough to hear Alalia stammering. “--so sorry, I thought they--I thought--because I--” Alalia let out a distressed noise, trying to pull him to his feet. “Those--those stingers are poisonous, but I--my sisters can help, can you walk?”

He tried, but the moment his feet took his weight a bolt of excruciating pain lanced up his stung leg, forcing another strangled cry from his throat. He still fought to get his feet under him, gritting his teeth through it.

“I--I think I can--”

“No, you can’t, stay still.”

“N-no, you--”

Before he could protest, Alalia put her arms around his waist and bodily lifted him off the ground, throwing him awkwardly over her shoulder. For a moment, the pain was almost forgotten for surprise; the Guide wasn’t terribly large or thick in build, but Alalia was definitely smaller than him and certainly didn’t look like she could lift someone his size so easily.

He tended to forget that, for all intents and purposes, Alalia was, technically, a tree.

Then, the pain surged and took his full attention again. Alalia leaped through the darkness ever downwards as if he weighed nothing, as he clung to the back of her wraps desperately in an attempt to keep from screaming in her ear. Somewhere during the descent, the poison weakened him to the point where his mind went fuzzy, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was conscious; he could hear blood roaring in his ears and he could feel Alalia moving, but that was about it.

He thought there might’ve been talking, and he might’ve been set down at some point, but he didn’t start to come to until he felt a bottle shoved against his lips and something thick and sweet in his mouth. His eyes remained closed as he swallowed the liquid down, and he immediately felt a new strength flooding his system as if he’d just drank a healing potion.

He only truly became fully conscious again when he felt something sticky being dumped on him.

Guide spluttered and flailed with his working limbs, struggling to sit up and finding his movements restricted by some thick substance. His eyes flew open, and standing above him, he could see Alalia, hands clasped tightly in front of her and eyes full of worry, and another, smaller dryad with messier hair, holding an overturned wooden bucket still dripping a gold substance.

Guide opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to figure out what to say, but the smaller dryad cut him off. “How’s the pain?”

He had to think about that for a few seconds. He could feel his strength slowly returning, and a tingling sensation raced up his numb arm and leg. The all-consuming pain and sickness were fading away, leaving only two sharp, localized points of pain on his back and leg. Rather than his head spinning, he simply felt tired.

Guide blinked a couple of times in surprise, glancing between the two dryads. “...Better?”

Alalia doubled over with a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“Honey cures everything,” the other dryad said, setting the empty bucket aside an equally empty bottle with a self-satisfied huff. “Or at least, I should hope so, considering I have to get more now.”

Guide took several deep breaths, slowly sitting up straight. A torch he assumed was somewhere behind him illuminated the area, and he could see he was in a cavernous open space deep in the underground jungle, sitting in a puddle of thick honey that just came up to his waist as he was sitting.

“I am so sorry…” Alalia wrung her hands in front of her. “I--I really thought they wouldn’t hurt you because you were with me.”

“What can I say, even the bugs here probably think I smell like a carcass.” Alalia flinched, and Guide quickly realized that had come out harsher than he’d intended. “...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s all right…” Alalia let out a long sigh. “I should have known some of the creatures wouldn’t take kindly to you. Thankfully, Lunette was willing to help when I told her it was urgent.”

Guide twisted himself around as best he could in the honey puddle, looking over his shoulder. Behind him was what looked to be a very large rich mahogany tree, like the living trees of the surface, with a torch affixed just above the entrance. Lunette was standing in the doorway, shoulders tense and violet eyes calculating in a look the Guide had seen many times before.

“I’m not what you think I am,” Guide quickly said, raising a honey-coated hand in a gesture of peace, “I mean no harm, really. Thank you.”

Lunette continued to stare at him warily for a few moments more, before ducking back into the hollow trunk. Guide winced and turned back to Alalia, who was now sitting on the edge of the puddle.

“She’ll come around,” Alalia said. She pulled her knees to her chest, “I really am sorry…”

“It’s not your fault.”

Alalia rested her chin on her knees. “Yes, but I did not want to get you hurt. I wanted you to know this place as I know it.”

Guide reached out, resting one sticky hand against her leg before he could think twice about it. She looked up at him with furrowed brows.

“It’s beautiful. It’s lovely. Just, uh...from a distance, maybe.”

Alalia gave a weak laugh. “From a distance, yes…” She abruptly stood, holding out a hand to help him out. “But you’re here in the heart of the jungle, now. You may as well make the most of it.”

Guide gratefully took the hand, and she pulled him up out of the honey with a surprising strength. He made to run a hand through his hair, realizing too late that his hand was still covered in honey and grimacing as he looked down at himself. It was going to take ages to get all of it off of him.

“Did you have to douse me in honey?” he asked.

Alalia glanced away, “...I panicked. It has very regenerative properties.”

“You? Panicking?”

“I-I was worried!” Alalia pouted. “Do not act like that! This is serious!”

Guide almost joked back regarding how he regularly made sarcastic remarks while facing death, but bit his lip--she wasn’t as desensitized to it as he was, he had to remember that. “Well...thank you. What can I do to repay you?”

Alalia’s shoulders sagged in relief. There was a moment of silence between them before a slight smile touched her lips. “Hm...if you want to repay us, you could stay long enough to have some tea with the two of us. I just hope you don’t prefer honey in your tea, as I believe Lunette used her whole supply.”

“Trust me,” Guide replied with a little lopsided grin, holding up a hand, “I have plenty to spare.”

[jaegertango]

Blood and Blossoms

Boy oh boy, we getting full anime now. Here’s a fight that happened around Cataclysm between @adries Sel’ythae and my new shithead Void Elf. With any luck, I’m not too rusty at writing, but WE’LL SEEEEEEE

Even when the world had been brought to its knees, the Horde refused to understand that.

It somehow wasn't a surprise to Sel'ythae Nightstriker, but she still felt her insides writhe at the dull audacity of them. How could anyone – be they Kaldorei or Orc – watch Azeroth nearly rip itself in half under the duress of a mad, ancient dragon Aspect and not turn their attention towards it? But then again, what could the Priestess have truly expected from a race of savage, honorless brutes who only knew destruction? That was why the Night Elf was there though: destroy the destroyers trying to put Ashenvale in their history. If she could survive demon invasions, undead uprisings, and a dragon-born apocalypse, she could survive a greenskin invasion.

Her silver eyes narrowed as she gazed out before the leveled forest. It once had been as dense and lively as the rest of the towering trees surrounding her, but the plateau before her was nearly barren. Sad trunks ravaged nearly to the roots stuck from the grass lamely, and the moonlight was shining down far more brightly now that there were no leafy canopies to obscure it. Sel'ythae felt almost too warm: that familiar coolness of shade was no longer here. She almost wanted to pull away her loose hood and push the thin veil from her face, but the Priestess abandoned that thought as quickly as it came up. No, she didn't need to broadly show her face, even if her long, great braid of white hair was hanging from the side openly. The less people could recognize her, the better. Not that any of the group she was with would know her face anyway: they were all Draenei shamans, seeking to heal the damage dealt to Ashenvale by Deathwing. They didn't look twice at Sel'ythae, just knowing she was one of the hired muscle to deal with any Horde or elemental attacks.  It was almost an irony in itself – the Kaldorei was more known for her elegant, revealing dresses and robes of Elune, and wearing the more concealing, darker vestments of a mercenary felt more uncomfortable for her. It wasn't that she had a problem with either of the garments, but Sel'ythae had a visage she needed to uphold. Any deviation from that was unthinkable.

Still, the disgust she felt as she saw a Kaldorei corpse, with two orcish axes embedded in his sopping skull and his stomach disemboweled made her truly want to break face for just a moment...

She couldn't dwell on it for long though, as a loud horn suddenly broke out, the many Night Elves and Draenei either moving forward onto the stripped or scrambling for safety in the opposite direction. The Horde were coming, and now Sel'ythae could get enact some vengeance.

Her fingers drew across the wrapping to her sword sheathed to her hip, comforted by its cold weight along her. It had been awhile since she had drawn its steel, and feeling the leather grip on her fingertips was almost nostalgic. Even after all of the years that had passed, the Night Elf didn't feel discomforted by its presence – she knew that time was no barrier on her skill. As her fingers closed around the handle comfortably, her stride grew even more confident. With her hood drawn and her body covered by layers of green and brown, it felt like another mask drawn. A new character that she could play.

And this one wanted those Orcs dead.

They were on the horizon. A row of green, more sickly green than the trees around them. Horde berserkers wrapped in red, howling and roaring at the Alliance maniacally. The wind was starting to shift in the direction of the open deforestation, and Sel'ythae could smell the scorched and burned leaves in the air. She closed her eyes momentarily, picking up her pace as the two sides closed in upon each other. She moved elegantly, almost making no noise upon the grass as she rocketed towards one of the Orcs, who was rearing back to time a swing on her-

-only for his head to separate from his shoulders with the same focused expression, falling backward with the same momentum as his swing. The Kaldorei's slash was so swift that the barbarian had not even realized he had died, Sel'ythae swinging her blade once more to rid herself of the blood upon it. Foul and wretched – it didn't deserve to even be tasting Ashenvale's air, much less so staining her sword. The curved edge glinted brightly, as if overjoyed to be unsheathed once more as the Priestess turned her gaze towards another Orc, who broke off from the main attack to avenge his fallen comrade. He hurled an axe at her, which Sel'ythae silently parried with the tip of her blade and catching it with her free hand. Now armed with a hand axe and her katana, she counterattacked by hurling the brutish weapon at the Orc's foot while aiming high with her sword. Her speed bore more fruit: the axe ripped through a few of the greenskin's toes, and as he bellowed in agony, she separated the top of his skull from his jaw in a gruesome arc.

Two dead – two very easily dead. Something about it wasn't satisfying to the Priestess. There was no rush, no attempt to protect themselves or chance at injury to herself. It was as mundane as taking out the trash, and she was a bit disappointed... wait, why did she care? This was a fight, not a hobby! She had to clear her mind even as she carved into a Troll, gouging a heavy diagonal slash into his bare chest. Yet, she couldn't deny that twinge twisting her stomach slightly – a part of her had been excited to take up a blade once more. Was this really what she had been missing, just mindless cutting?She was sure there was more to this than slaughter such as this. She was winning, but Sel'ythae didn't feel happy about that. As she turned her eyes on a Blood Elf, she regretted thinking there could be any more to this than a psychopath's-

*shNNG*

The loud clash of metal on metal startled the Night Elf from her melancholic reverie. Her entire slash had been stopped, what was supposed to be a full-body cleave halting against her foe's own blade. There was a definite pause as she gazed at the Sin'dorei man, his sharp features looking decidedly bored as he shoved off the woman, his countering swing missing by a mile by Sel'ythae backflipping gracefully. When she landed, she got a more focused look on the Blood Elf, who now looked mildly amused at the display. With only a loose haori revealing his limber chest, and his arms entirely devoid of protection from finger to strong shoulders, he was no more protected than any of the other Horde brutes were. And yet, the long-handled sword he wielded had stopped the Night Elf's blade from ripping him up, which he now whipped about readily. Ash and flower petals rained gently from the burning sky, and the battlefield suddenly seemed ever-so-silent as the two eyed each other up. Stroking his tidy beard with a free hand, the Sin'dorei then gestured at Sel'ythae with his weapon, popping his neck in challenge at her with the barest hint of a smile on his face.

The taunt succeeded. The Priestess charged, her katana slung low so that she could tear it upward towards the Blood Elf's face, which he blocked. But as soon as the parry connected, she whipped around to slash at his other side, to which he angled himself to barely halt her blade once more. Sel'ythae did not stop though, feeling more annoyed now that her fast strikes were not piercing this Horde soldier's defenses. Even more irritably was how his face was starting to split with an even wider grin, revealing wicked teeth almost too sharp even for an elf. For all of her previous thoughts about how boring it was to fight these Horde freaks, now she was getting more and more irked over this one that was not letting her cut him. And yet, feeling the reverberating weight of his sword bouncing back her blows was shaking Sel'ythae in a way that was somehow familiar to her. It was an almost primal feeling, vibrating in her core deeper than her pale skin allowed. As their swords crashed against each other once more, so tantalizingly close to the Blood Elf's throat, the Night Elf grit her teeth together in focus – though she wasn't sure why. Her opponent was now nearly cackling, his fel-green eyes wide with bloodthirsty glee as their swords grinded together, sparks trying to shower onto their faces. Sel'ythae wanted to pull off for another swing, but the sheer force that her opponent was bearing down on her was making it hard to move. She tried to shove back against him-

-only for him to snarl out and push harder against her.

The realization she had lost the trade was made even more apparent as she felt a searing bite rip at the left side of her neck. Agony unlike anything she had felt for some time rippled through her skin, igniting like fire around her entire head and electrifying her down to her toes. Crumpling to a knee, her free hand clutched to the open wound, and she could feel blood spurting wetly against her fingers. Her vision went hazy for a few seconds, but refused to darken – she wasn't dead yet. But the pain was reminding her of how close Sel'ythae was to death, rocking her senses to full clarity as she could see the boots of her foe standing before her. She looked up towards the Sin'dorei, who was still smiling broadly as he held his blade aloft-

-but it faltered considerably as he saw her face.

With her hood hurled back and the veil uncovered from her face, the Night Elf's expression was on full display. Nude, hungry bloodlust ripped on her beautiful features, contorting a serene smile into a grotesque grin of sharp teeth. Her silver eyes blazed with crazy, almost wanton light, even as she gripped at her bloody throat in a clawed grip. A giggle started to form in her chest, but was choked out by her own hand, causing it to come out with an ugly and brutish shudder. As she began to stand back up, the Blood Elf looked stupefied as she held up her bloodstained hand, and then drew her hand along the entirety of her sword, from the engraved hilt to the very tip in her own crimson life fluids. Her blade then exploded into a brilliant silver light, the very radiance of Elune blessing her sword as Sel'ythae brought the little bit of blood still on her fingers, and licked up tenderly. That motion was enough to garner a ferocious, toothy smirk from the Sin'dorei, readying himself for another swing – had Sel'ythae not moved first.

Even though her body was still shaking with those unnatural laughs and her neck was bleeding profusely onto her armor, the Night Elf was attacking with even greater speed. Both of her hands were now clutched onto her sword as she swung in fluid, monstrous arcs. The Blood Elf was once more on the defensive, but he was obviously being whittled down by her invigorated power and speed. Their grunts were getting louder, and the Sin'dorei more surprised that no matter how many attacks he blocked, the Kaldorei always had another one lined up for him. Yet, even with his eyes widening, his laughter was only getting more wild, more pleased over the roaring fury of the struggle. He slashed ferociously, trying to bash away her blade and get his own slash in, but it wasn't enough. Even with his succeeded move, his opening wasn't as large as hers was.

Her blade ripped into his right cheek, the tip slashing downward until it left his jaw, then tore into his bare chest as well. No amount of muscle could halt her advance until her blow was complete, a tremendous cut marking two bloody gouges into the Sin'dorei. The enemy bladesman finally froze in both movement and noise, gazing at Sel'ythae with an almost lustful smirk splitting his face. Even as he began to crumple to the ground, his smile was still wide, green eyes rolling back almost delightfully as he fell to the grass, bleeding even more openly than the Night Elf was. The Priestess watched him with heavy breathes, knowing she had won, and feeling her heart thundering in her chest. Even though the fight was over, the adrenaline had not subsided. The high of her victory was still winning out over the pain in her neck, but then it came crashing back to her abruptly.

Sel'ythae winced, snatching at her throat and feeling all of her euphoria dump itself as dead weight into her stomach. This was bad – she needed to get treated. Wounds like this bled too openly, and she had stupidly prolonged a fight that didn't need to be as long as it was. Yet, even with the choking feeling in her gut and chest, everything felt so clear and bright. Was this because of the blood loss? What other high could this be from? There was no way she was as sadistic as that Sin'dorei was...

Shaking her head, she moved as quickly as she could back towards the Alliance base. That wasn't her, she couldn't be like that... could she?

************************************************

What a fight!

Aerthul Anar'serrar felt his breaths wheeze out painfully, the gift of life not coming comfortably to the Blood Elf. Consciousness only came in short bursts for him – he knew because he was getting more and more coated by fallen ash and pink flower petals. The way he was bleeding, surely he was a dead man. And yet, the Sin'dorei swordsman kept surviving, gazing blankly towards the dawn of morning light. It had been a few hours since he had been beaten, and yet the rush of that fight had not left him. The adrenaline coursing in his veins, the rush of landing that blow, the agony torn into his face and chest-

-and that look.

An almost-drunken laugh grunted from Aerthul weakly. That woman's face was burned into his retinas. He could never forget such a beautiful, starved-for-blood look. The only thing keeping him alive was the desire to see that face once again. Who knew what her name was, or what she did, but he didn't care. He'd find that Kaldorei, and he'd fight her again – and again, and again, and again. After so many years of mindless fighting, he was finally on death's door, and Aerthul refused to knock. No, he wouldn't die – not while that woman still drew breath with the same might she drew her sword!

His hand clutched his own blade lightly, and another wry chuckle echoed from him as his wounds throbbed viciously.

Not even the Void could stop him from finding the Moon once again.

[peachiejihoonie]

bae jinyoung - demigod!au; demeter

honestly, the boy is just very misunderstood

he lived in the big city near the piers and beaches 

him and his father ran a flower shop in that city and jinyoung loved it 

he loved having the big and busy city life but also being able to see the sea and his flower shop for relaxation 

it was a nice balance 

he loved his father deeply since they only had each other 

so when he was brought to camp he was furious, he hated it 

he wanted to go back to his comfortable home, plus his dad was alone when he wasn’t there

that’s how he got his cold image at camp half blood 

he didn’t talk to many people, he never shared his life, heck people barely knew his last name

“bong jinyoung?? bing jingyoung” the hermes cabin would giggle

he was exactly what you expected, bad at almost everything 

he couldn’t get up the lava wall, sucked at capture the flag, couldn’t carry a sword and slept through greek mythology, history and language 

he was good at harvesting of course and had all the basic demeter children skills 

one he didn’t reveal was that he could teleport (geeky i know)

he can think of any plant to swallow him up and take him somewhere else 

he’s still working on the distance (which is why he hasn’t escaped and went home yet) but i mean he loves beating everyone to the showers 

so one day he was assigned to fix up all the wall plants along the cabin and change the ones hanging on the porch 

head counselor euiwoong was getting sick of him being lazy 

as he was throwing out the vines, he didn’t pay attention to the people that were walking about 

and you were a bit too engrossed in your book to pay attention to the ground

so guess who tripped over the vines?? you! 

and he turns around, slightly annoyed cause whats the commotion but immediately feels guilty as he hears people laughing at you for tripping face first into the dirt road

he kneels down next to you a little bit of second hand embarrassment is seen on his face

“uh hey sorry, are you okay??” he’s kinda awkward cause he doesn’t really talk to people

“yea yea,” you get up and dust yourself and the book off “just try not to leave your vines off the main road yea?” 

“okay” and he just returns to the plants on the cabin, leaving the vines on the ground

you raise a brow did this boy straight up ignore me?

and he isn’t he’s just being the normal demeter kid he is  

as the stubborn athena child, you don’t accept just an “okay”, you march back up to him 

“how dare you, can’t you see that you’re being an inconvenience to the rest of the campers?” 

“no one is here?” he turns back at you and motions to the empty ground

“but yea, what if someone else comes by and trips like i did?” 

“shouldn’t they be more careful? i mean you were the one reading and not paying attention to the road” 

you kinda want to stab him at this point, but he really doesn’t give two flying fucks and goes back to wall vine set up thing

and you stomped off, a little angered

and the next time you guys meet, you guys were having sword training class and were assigned as each other’s partner 

you being athena’s child were easily capable of adjusting to any sort of weapon whereas he wasn’t experienced much in sword fighting 

so you easily have the tip of your blade at his chest plate in a few swings

he just rolls his eyes, admitting defeat and smacking his blade into yours to knock it off

“you should try to bend your knees in the first position in order to be more steady as you start” you smirked, remembering the time he tripped you at the cabins 

this was payback 

but he’s ignoring you he’s actually just spacing out honestly

and you’re like “uh hello are you paying attention??” 

he shakes his head, snapping back to reality and you’re rolling your eyes 

“cmon, the sword isn’t gonna strike without you” 

and he’s back at it again,

with each defeat, he gets more and more stubborn

he isn’t frustrated, he’s much more patient then you expected

maybe it’s the way you’re shouting commands and tips at him with each battle 

and he hates being told what to do

“normally people would’ve thrown their sword and spit curse words by now”

he just shrugs, panting and rolling into a ball to rest

“hey get up, spread your arms out to open your lungs to take in more air” you kick at his side 

and he groans and gets back up 

god you were such an annoying know it all athena kid

and through out this entire class he hasn’t even spoke a single word to you

every week you guys have this class together and it’s the same routine

and honestly he gets better but of course with new weapons means a fresh start

one time, you guys stayed after class was over just to keep sparring 

at a tired moment, you both lied down on the grass, watching the clouds move 

“you know, i really hate this place” he sighs, this being one of the only times he ever talked first 

“what really? why?” you’re shook because you loved this place 

“i like my home, i miss my home, my flower shop, my dad, the city, it’s just so empty” 

“man, lucky you” you sighed “you have somewhere to go back to” 

and now hes shook 

“hUH?” 

you explained how your mom, athena, met your dad, a high rank military soldier at one of the bases  

they fell in love of course but they only had each other, no other families within reach

so when your mom gave birth to you, she had no where to put you and your father refused adoption 

at first, you mom had found a cousin of his, but they refused to raise you because you were too problematic

your mom had laid out many conditions and rules about you and they just couldn’t handle such responsibility 

and her brother apollo already forsaw you’re future with them and lets just say its pretty dark 

he would know i mean the dude is the sun god

“it must be nice huh? i don’t even know my dad, he doesn’t have time for me” 

and it just clicked in his brain, he’s a brat

he couldn’t apprecirate what he already had

he still has his father, his home

and the next day you’ve never seen him so motivated during battle class 

his sword swung so fast and you weren’t used to it 

by the end of the first spar, you were panting

and you saw something you never thought you ever would

he was smirking 

and you scoffed at his sudden confidence, unsure as to what sparked inside of him 

dusting yourself off, you cleared your throat, 

“you still need some work” 

and you went back to sparring 

you started to notice that he was smiling when you guys were getting ready for the next round 

he would actually start conversations between battles and he was actually a pretty silly dude

he started finding motivation somehow, and it has something to do with you

at first he just wanted to defeat you and you’re know it all ass 

but you started to realize that he’d always sit by you during the campfire (which he only recently started attending)

he also asked you about greek history and mythology

so you guys end up studying together as well 

wow yall battlin with weapons and books 

and you started getting sus 

like is he into you ?????? 

but he really doesn’t show many signs otherwise

not much blushies or flusterness, just a lot of attachment 

so maybe he just really saw you as a friend

did your heart just fall into your stomach ?? 

nO! cause you’re an athena kid ! you don’t fall for anyone psh !!! 

aka you’re just repressing them feelings 

too bad he actually likes you too 

though he may be lookin like a blank rock

everytime you two are alone together (all the time) he’s gettin butterflies all over his stomach 

like his tummy is a snowglobe of butterflies

and he thinks he’s sending signals by being with you and only you 

but you’re a cold ice cube too so he doesn’t know how to approach this situation 

and guys are just stuck 

both too scared to say anything 

and one time, jinyoung needs a break from all the book reading and wants to walk in the forest 

you go with him reluctantly cause you love books 

“god what a nerd”

“whatever flower boy” 

and he’s walking ahead of you, blushing 

why did that sound so cute to him? it just a simple name?? 

there’s a flower that you guys spot 

and you’re like oh hey gardenias how pretty

“yea, you know they mean sweetness and purity?”

“no??? they mean secret love u idiot, some demeter child you are dafawk???” 

and now he has his eyebrows raised 

“my mom literally created the language of flowers, are you really gonna try arguing with me ??” 

“books don’t lie sir” 

and you both whip to look at each other 

the eye contact is overwhelming, it’s lw hot, but also playful??? but you’re both ready to roast each other at the campfire 

you guys can’t seem to form words with your thoughts though 

you’re both kinda annoyed 

not only with some tiny argument, but also those compressed feelings are rising

“why can’t you just admit things for once” he bursted before you could you first, 

“you’re so stubborn for a boring demeter child”

“you’re the stubborn one”

“yea, but that’s expected of me”

“uuuUUuUUUuGGHhHHhHH yOU aRE sO aNno YinGGG, first, you have to lecture me nonstop, second you’re so self entitled, thirdly you such a annoying knowitall and lastly you’re still so vulnerable and I still have such a strong urge to care for you because you’re YOU. and i like YOU. oF ALL  CAMPERS AND CHILD OF ALL THE GODS, YOU. sOME KNOWITALL ATHENA CHILD”

silence, silence so deadly that hades himself must’ve created it his face is as a red a tomato and all he can think about is running away and hiding underneath this sheets and screaming

and thats what happens suddenly he’s engulfed in a flower and sucked into the earth

for the first thirty seconds you’re speechless, unaware as to what just happened and then you scream 

meanwhile, jinyoung sprouts out of a potted plant on his nightstand in his cabin he’s literally thrown out of the flower and rolls onto the floor, covered in petals 

everyone is shook

“d-did y-you j-j-ju-just c-co-come ou-out of a fl-fLOWER???” euiwoong freaks out 

and now everyone is screaming 

“i-i can explain..” jinyoung is literally going to become a tomato

“but can someone go get y.n in the woods???????” he nervously chuckled

and the sound of your name gives him ptsd cause he literally just confessed to you

euiwoong takes you back to your dorm, you were no longer freaked at that point but just needed some serenity

euiwoong just explains that jinyoung can teleport through plants 

“yea, no one has had that demeter power for a while, even we were shook" 

you don’t ask to see him though, you just needed to recollect yourself

you couldn’t face him

you’re feelings were out of the roof now there’s no way you’d be able to look at him without getting nervous 

and he’s curled up underneath his sheets, regretting everything he did that day 

his siblings think hes untouchable now

like yo, he’s all mighty powerful and scary cold 

now you guys are extremely awkward 

he sees you run off to you siblings asap during weapons class 

and he’s kinda hurt honestly 

like you could’ve at least rejected him to his face, not full on ghost him 

but at the same time he understood since he kinda abruptly said he like you, he probably surprised you 

but he still couldn’t help but hear his heart cracking

and you’re not even trying to break his heart

you’re just too awkward, what an athena move 

you can’t face you’re own feelings, and its okai, it's hard i feel 

everytime jinyoung walks past your face turns red

when his name is brought up you kinda steer out of the conversation 

and the only reason why his name keeps being brought up is because you’re siblings know and looooooooove making fun of you 

even you’re quiet brother minhyun finds it amusing 

they’d always find any reason to say his name, anytime anywhere 

“ooh the strawberries are blooming is jINYOUNG piCkING THEM???

him and minhyun end up sitting next to each other in mythology 

“oh, you’re jinyoung huh???” he’s making the connections 

 “you know me?” the younger asked, very quietly 

“how could i not, you’re the talk of the talk in the athena cabin” (old dad terms wtf minhyun)

“oh cause y.n basically rejected me” he sighs “i get it, what a joke, can’t believe i thought i even had a shot” 

and minhyun blinks his eyes in confusion

“she rejected you??????????” he scrunches his eyebrows 

“well no, she kinda just left me hanging and ignores me now, so i have to assume it’s a rejection” 

and he laughs

and jinyoung has math equations all around his head (you kno the meme) 

“you guys were made for each other oh my lordy” he covered his mouth with one hand and the other patting the smaller one’s back “send her some flowers or something, i’ll deliver them” 

and thats how you find gardenias on your bed, with a small note 

‘secret love” 

i see him have some pretty sloopy handwriting and you kinda smile at it

and you send one back with a simple note 

‘secret love’ 

and he’s squishy and grinning to himself 

kicking his bed sheets in excitement, trying to refrain from jumping around 

his siblings are so done with him 

and so during breakfast the next morning, he swings an arm around you 

“hey you” he grinned

“jinyoung?????” you look up at him surprised 

the entire athena cabin is staring in amusement

and he’s immediately back to being flustered 

“jihoon said i should be smooth to impress you” he confessed, taking his arm back 

and you laugh and he ends up giggling with you

everything is back to normal 

ya’ll are the very quiet camp couple 

but you guys can get pretty wild together 

at the fireworks, you guys were pretty chill

just on a towel watching the fireworks in each others arms, unbothered 

and everyone is like ‘awwwweeeewwew cuuuute” 

but one time you guys were alone, just having your own picnic at the edge of the forest 

you two were nonstop laughing 

he would continuously make dumb faces at you 

and the more you smile, the more he would too

and it becomes a reoccurring routine 

where guys just sit outside 

whether it be studying, reading, growing flowers, trying his new recipe for brownies, or just laying in silence 

you were reading a book once, and suddenly a small flower grows in between your eyes and the book 

and it tickles your nose 

and your scrunching your nose at jinyoung and you both giggle 

he finds you so adorable during these peaceful times 

very unlike your uptight athena side 

he has a habit of playing with your fingers 

like you’re both on your way to the mess hall and he has one of your hands in his two hands and he’s playing with your fingers 

not even like intertwining them

just folding them, pressing at the pads of your fingertips and joints, drawing little pictures on your palms 

and you help him open up and the demeter cabin sees it 

they re-welcome him as an official sibling and are genuine friends/siblings 

imagine him taking you back to his hometown 

he tours you around the big city and you’re so fascinated by the buildings 

but then he even takes you to piers and beach that are like a bus stop away

and you’re just in awe 

“they’re right next to each other ???? buildings AND oceans ???” 

he’s overjoyed to see you appreciate the scenic views that he too fell for too 

and plus he fell for you too 

as much his dad wants you two enjoy your little couple vacation 

one day he needs to do a huge delivery so he asks jinyoung to watch the store 

and you’re much more excited than he was expecting cause he was feelin sorry 

“babe i’m sorry we ha-” 

“omg we get to run the flower shop??!?!???!!?!” you’re squealing and he’s blinking his eyes in confusion 

it’s really chill though 

he mostly handles all the buisness stuff while you just finish up your book next to him 

“jinyoung, i haven’t seen you in so long !” a longtime mom/costumer would greet him 

and in that moment you were talking to her 5 year old son, teaching him the meaning of certain flowers which you had learned from him 

and you and her son start giggling and you give him one the flowers, sliding it on top of his ear, and hoped that jinyoung wouldn’t mind 

“awe, you’re girlfriend seems very sweet” she would compliment 

“yea, she’s definitely a keeper” he would blush, smiling and looking down at the register 

if anyone was curious, the city i was basing jinyoung’s hometown was san francisco, ca in the u.s, mainly downtown sf and the ferry building + piers  :-)) 

and sorry i took so long, thnks 4 being patient w/ me !!! 

[punkpoemprose]

Siege of Arendelle- Chapter Seven

Remember when I said this was going to be like 20 chapters long? I’m thinking it might be even more than that. Like this is just ending Act I pretty much, so I have much more planned. Also I’d like to appologize in advance as I don’t think I’ll be able to post on the regular schedule for the next few weeks due to family stuff and getting ready to go back to college.

Enough rambling. Here’s chapter 7.

Universe: Canon- Post Film Rating: T (Teen and Up)- Soon to change <3 Words: 3578

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six

           “Your majesty,” the young guard said falling to her knees in front of Elsa, “I have word from the scouts!”

           “And?” Elsa asked, proud of herself for finally regaining her composure enough for her hands to stop shaking at her sides or reaching for the bandage around her neck.

           “Southern Isles ships will enter the fjord within the hour.”

           “What else do we know?” Elsa asked, gesturing for the woman to stand before her.

           “They seem to have allied with others, but their colors are unfamiliar and we’re not sure on their numbers. They seem to outnumber our people five to one, and that is on the conservative side.”

           “Weapons?”

           “We have no idea, however we’re certain that at least three of the five ships have cannons.”

           “I’ll have to freeze the harbor,” Elsa said, her voice only wavering slightly despite the way in which anxiety chewed at her guts, “There’s no other choice.”

           She wasn’t even certain she could do it. She had been able to before, but it had been an accident and she had been so out of control that she had nearly frozen her people to death as well. She took in a steadying breath. If she could build an entire castle of ice out of thin air, she could freeze a little pre-existing water. Or at least she hoped she could.

           The woman nodded dutifully, and Elsa took strength in the power that the young woman held within her.

           “I’ll send a door guard to make the Captain aware. I’ll insist he and the troops start evacuating immediately. I need you to go to her. Tell her what’s happening. Remind the Ice master of his promise. I know I needn’t remind you what failure or being compromised in your mission will result in.”

           The young woman knelt again, “Yes my Queen.”

           Elsa reached down and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder her voice losing it’s regal tone and softening. “Kari. You know you’re the only one I can trust with this.”

           Kari stood then, and faced her queen. Elsa looked into her determined eyes, green like spring and full of promise. She couldn’t help herself but to reach up to her face and tuck away a strand of dark hair that had managed to find its way out of a tight bun.

           And then there were lips on hers. It was not for the first time, and Elsa silently prayed that it would not be for the last. Her eyes shut and tears pooled along her lashes as strong hands held her close, reminding her that she was not alone.

           “We’ll make it through,” Kari whispered into Elsa’s ear, lips practically pressing against skin, “I’ll be back soon. Please stay safe.”

           “They don’t know I’m still alive,” Elsa replied, embracing her lover tightly in return, “Thanks to you, I suppose they’ll be in for one hell of a surprise when their ships are frozen out of shore’s reach.”

           Kari smiled at that and managed a half hearted chuckle as she pressed another kiss to Elsa’s lips.

           “Now please go. You’re starting to make me wish I could freeze time too.”

           Kari nodded and bowed slightly before departing from the room in a rush, leaving Elsa to address her other guards and inform them of the only plan she had to protect their nation from invaders.

                                                               ***

           They were both hardly dressed, but Anna wasn’t about to complain. The solstice was only a few days away and it was an unseasonably hot morning for late spring in the mountains. She wasn’t sure that she could have put on any more layers even if she had to. Her chemise and petticoat were weighty and warm enough.

           “Where are we going?” she asked, unable to help herself. She had asked him several times already, but he had refused to answer. This time, she suspected, would be no different.

           “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?” Kristoff replied, smiling back at her, “It’s not too much further.”

           Anna sighed and continued to follow him. Patience was never one of her strong suits, but she pacified her thoughts by watching him walk in front of her, surefooted through the trees and underbrush that he had called a trail.

          He was wearing the same white undershirt and black pants that he had slept in. His shoulders were almost too broad for the fabric of the shirt, and while the rest of it fit loosely, it stretched across his shoulder blades and made her want to reach out and touch them. She much preferred it when he didn’t wear a shirt at all so that her fingers could wander across his skin. Looking at him, a smile on his face and his hair mussed, she could almost forget that his attire was the same clothing he had worn under layers of black and grey at her funeral the day before.

           It all still felt like a blur to her. She wasn’t certain whether she was grateful to have missed the service or wished that she could have seen it all. There was a morbid curiosity within her that wanted to know what words had been said for her, what they had inscribed on her stone, but Kristoff had refused to talk about it, and she hadn’t pushed him. If he wouldn’t tell her, he had his reasons. Just like she had her own reasons for not telling him that she had been found out by Mr. Olsen. He didn’t want to worry him needlessly.

           “When we get back I think I’m going to read those letters Elsa gave you for me. I wish I would have been able to see her.”

           “I gave her the ones you wrote too,” he said, turning when their path through the trees was obstructed by a large stone formation.

           “It’s not the same as being able to talk to her,” she said with a sigh, “But you know that.”

           He didn’t say anything in response, and she didn’t expect him to. He was doing the best that he could and Anna knew it. They were both doing what they had to do, and Anna wished that she could somehow fix everything that was causing them both stress. She wished that she could march back into town with him at her side and fight against those that would have her married off to a red headed Prince from a Nation they loathed.

           The thought passed when she saw that there was clearing just ahead. As the “path” widened to let out into it, Anna took advantage of the space to make her way to Kristoff’s side. She put her hand out to his and her concerns melted away when she felt his fingers lace between hers. They kept their eyes forward, but proximity was enough to allow them to communicate the relaxed ease of the moment. Worries filing their way to the back of their minds like winter clothes to the back of a summer closet.

           When they broke out of the trees, Anna smiled at her surroundings. They were surrounded by more rocky outcroppings like the one they had run up against on their way. The stone was already alive with more green than their garden or the wilderness around them. It was still early in the season, but the plants around the water seemed like they had been growing since the moment the frost thawed. She noticed most of it was moss, but there were also some flowers poking out of the rock. Directly before them was a small body of water that appeared to be fed by a small stream that flowed over the rocks.

           “A pond?”

           “A spring,” he corrected, “The water comes from the stream above and the ground below.”

           Anna didn’t need any more explanation, she was already tugging off her boots, fighting against her petticoat to get her leg up high enough to remove them. In her opinion, it was too hot to bother with removing anything else. If it weren’t for the fact that ruining her shoes wasn’t something she especially cared to have to worry about she would already be in the water.

           “Do you want so help with those?” he asked, watching her struggle with the fabric, lacking a place to sit to remove the boots on her own properly.

           “If you would,” she said with a sigh, happy to have the help. Maybe a few months before she would have struggled through on her own to do it, but her stubbornness had faded somewhat in their time living together. Or, rather, she simply had begun to pick her battles and save her stubbornness for moments that required it most.

           He shrugged in response and knelt beside her to untie and slip her shoes from her feet. The earth was cool under her feet, the mixture of stone, dirt and grass felt familiar and inviting under her freed soles. She wasn’t wearing any stockings, they had met their fate the evening before, and were currently flung somewhere across the room in the upstairs of his home. A thought passed through her mind that made her blush and made her wish that she had replaced them before departing for the morning.

          If she had worn them, he would have helped her remove them as well. She could imagine what it would feel like to have his hands slide up the side of her leg, tugging at her garters and running across her skin all the way down. His hands were rough with callouses and far stronger than her own, but he was always so ginger with her, so gentle when he cupped her face or held her close.

           When he was finished he went to work on his own boots, tugging them off quickly and setting them neatly beside her own. They looked right sitting beside each other. Hers were polished and black, much smaller than his rougher grey ones. It was the little things that brought a smile to her face. For all the hell they had both been through, at least there was some solace in the way they fit together. She found it in the way his shirts looked pinned beside her dresses on the line, in the way her trunk sat next to his, in the way her body fit perfectly next to his in bed each night.

           He caught her hand, and for the first time since she could remember it was him pulling her towards fun. She felt her heart leap when he looked at her, a soft smile on his lips that said everything she needed to hear without a word being spoken.

           You deserve a break. Come on. It’s okay. You’re safe with me.

           “I can’t swim,” she said suddenly, the thought coming to her mind and nearly paralyzing her with fear.

           No one had ever taught her to swim. That was why her drowning would have been believable to even those that knew her. She never went into water any deeper than her waist because if she went too far in, she wasn’t sure how to get back out.

           “It’s okay,” he said, “it’s not that deep.”

           His hand dropped hers and reached instead for her waist. She felt him hold onto her, strong and secure.

           He laughed lightly, “You were about to jump in all by yourself a minute ago, you didn’t know that it was shallow, so did you forget you didn’t know how to swim?”

           She sighed, “Yes. I wasn’t thinking about it. I just wanted to cool down. I still do. Please don’t tease me about it. I never learned.”

           His hands tightened on her waist, and she could feel herself being pulled even closer to him. He wasn’t laughing anymore. He looked in her eye, but there was no judgement there, rather he seemed thoughtful. He loved to tease her, but he loathed to hurt her feelings. His kindness seemed to know no bounds.

           “Would you like it if I held you?”

           She blinked. “What?”

           “Would you like it if I held you?” he repeated, his cheeks going red, “It’s not that deep. I don’t think it’s over your head even at the deepest part, but I’ll onto you until you’re ready if you want.”

           Her cheeks were on fire. She didn’t want to seem like she was afraid. She hated to look childish to him when she wanted to appear as just the opposite in his eyes, but the temptation to be in his arms was great, and she couldn’t deny the part of her that begged to be so close to him again.

           “I think I would, but I should probably get rid of all of this extra fabric,” she said gesturing down to her petticoat, “Are you going to promise not to look again?”

           He smiled down at her, “If you want me to I can try, but right now it’s hard to look away.”

           She smiled at him in return. “Then I just won’t ask you to.”

           She reached back to unbutton the back of her petticoat, but his hands were already there, resting carefully over the button.

           “May I?”

           She nodded, not trusting her voice not to crack or come out overly enthusiastically in response. Of course, she wanted him to remove her petticoat. The very un-princess-like thoughts in her head wanted him to remove much more than that.

          His hands worked at the buttons on the back of the fabric. She was thankful that she had only worn one of the several she had the day before, because it meant that she could feel his hands on her the whole time he worked at the buttons and tugged on the fabric.

          She relaxed even more into his touch, their bodies pressed close together as he finally managed to free her from the fabric entirely. It fell to the ground and Anna felt both blessedly free and embarrassingly bare before him. She was still covered from the tops of her knees to the top of her chest, but even her nightgown was less revealing. Somehow wearing only her shift was both more and less intimate than it had been when she had climbed into bed wearing little more. In the darkness she could hide, but here, in only a thin layer of fabric in the light of the morning she felt embarrassed of herself.

          “Kris,” she said softly, the shortened version of his name slipping out as he pulled her up and into his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder and relaxed into her place in his arms.

          “Is this alright or should I put you back down?” He asked before even taking a step towards the water. “It’s okay if you change your mind.”

          “No, this… this is good. You don’t have to ask me all the time. I’ll tell you to stop if I want you to. I trust you.”

           She could see a hint of a smile play on his lips as he adjusted his hold on her and pulled her closer. His hands gripped tighter on the side of her knee and back when he walked towards the water. The comforting pressure acting as a reminder that he would not let her go, that her confidence in him was not misplaced.

           When the water touched Anna’s foot, she jumped slightly. The difference in temperature between the air and the water was stark, and her body’s reaction to the shock started in her toes and ran straight through her body until she was left cringing at the sensation in her toes.

           “Are you alright?”

           There was something like a laugh behind his words. He knew why she had jumped, and she was silently damning him for not doing the same. Sometimes it was as if he were invulnerable to just about everything the world could throw at him. She had not been lucky enough to receive the same gift.

           “It’s cold!”

           The half laugh turned into a full-blown chuckle. It made her skin feel even hotter as the familiarity of his reaction put her into a state somewhere between embarrassment and comfort. It felt almost as strange as the hot and cold on her skin as he continued to walk deeper and deeper into the water. She had to admit the embarrassment felt far more pleasant.

           She gasped again as the icy water went past her toes, up her foot, and around her ankle. She felt a momentary jolt of panic jump from her brain to her heart and back again, but the fear was quieted by the warm steady hands that supported her body and guided her into the water.

           “You’ll get used to it. Just wait a minute, you’ll feel better then.”

           It reminded her of the first bath she had taken in his home. He had hidden himself away in the stables while she had fixed it for herself. Ultimately, she had mixed too much cold water and not enough hot creating a similar experience to the one she currently felt. She had gotten used to it, but it didn’t mean she had enjoyed it. It had been cold weather then, she reminded herself, and the heat of the air in the late spring day gave the promise of not feeling cold for hours after her dip. And so, she trusted his words. They were logically sound, and even better, he’d never given her cause not to.

           Soon the water covered the arms holding her aloft, and with them the vast majority of her body. She could feel the goosebumps rising across her skin, and she rapidly became aware of what was becoming of her white shift as it contacted the water.

           By the time the transparency became fully evident to her, she was soaked from the waist down, and he had also taken note of the change. Despite the chill of the water around them, a chill that was quickly becoming comfortable, their cheeks were hot.

           “I…is this still alright?”

           The water around them shimmered in the sunlight, and the flowers growing on the rocks perfumed the air. Anna knew the right thing to do would be to take advantage of his gentlemanly nature and ask him to bring her to shore before he caught a good look at her, but doing the right thing was something she had the luxury to ignore for the moment.

           She hummed and leaned up, kissing him gently, and quickly breaking the kiss to laugh when she felt his arms nearly drop her from the shock.

           “I told you to stop asking...This is very alright.”

           He gave her a sheepish smile in return before returning the kiss. His lips were gentle against hers, tentative and taking only as much as she would give. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she was quick to deepen the kiss.

           Soon she was moving, shifting out of his arms and allowing herself to stand on her own two feet in the water. She sucked in a breath as the water went from covering her bottom to being above her breasts, but he was still holding onto her, and a warm chuckle brought her back to the much more important concern of kissing until they were both breathless.

           His hands were on her waist, and hers were on his shoulders. She felt free, buoyant in the water despite his steadying hands. It was a sensation of ease the likes of which she had never felt to be wrapped in cold water and the embrace of the man she loved.

           Kristoff broke the kiss, leaving her breathless and looking up at him in a mixture of confusion and anticipation.

           “Do you remember when we fought?” he asked, his tone serious, but his eyes full of love as he faced her.

           Anna blinked. She wasn’t sure what she had expected him to say, but it hadn’t been that. Unsure of where he could be going, she nodded in affirmation. Kristoff wouldn’t bring it up unless it was something that they needed to talk about. He wasn’t one to dwell in the past when it was unnecessary.

           “I was angry because I spent a whole month terrified that I had lost you. I was angry because I love you and all I wanted was this.”

           She didn’t know what to say, but the words seemed to find their way past her lips on their own accord.

           “You always have been and always will be my first choice,” her voice was barely a whisper, “I love you. I always have. I always will.”

           He kissed her again, his hands finding their way into the wet tangle of brown hair that she was still getting used to. Her body was pressed tight to his, and his kisses traveled to her neck and shoulders with a need he so rarely showed.

           She moaned out softly when he stopped kissing her. She opened her eyes and gave him a look of mock annoyance that was mostly tainted by the smile she was unable to hide away. The loss of his lips was almost too much to bear when her body was yearning for more of him than he had ever shared.

          His hand left her hair to cup her cheek. His smile was warm as he tucked a lock of wavy damp hair behind her ear.

          “You are my forever.”

[faveficarchive]

At a Distance - Part 2

by Melissa Good

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: PG-13

Synopsis: This is a novel-length fic, and a classic in the community. Xena and Gabrielle start to explore the changes in their relationship, Gabrielle is recalled to the Amazons where she has to deal with a bit of treachery, and Xena is, as always, there to protect.

A day out from Amphipolis..

The silence was going to drive her mad, Xena thought once an hour, when she stirred her mind to think of anything at all. Every noise was magnified - an owl’s hoot went off like an alarm. The chuckling of branches in the wind. The inconstant snapping of wood in the fire as it was consumed.

She stared into the fire, and tossed a few pebbles its way, then leaned back against the rock she was seated near, and tilted her head up to regard the stars. And then closed her eyes against the ache that caused, from the sudden clear memory of many nights spent idly tracing patterns in the sky with Gabrielle. Let’s drop that subject, shall we?

Halfway home. And she had all that to look forward to. And just why am I going there anyway? A derisive snort. Why? Good question. Just to have someplace to go while she makes her decision? What if she decides to stay with the Amazons after all, then what? I guess I’ll find out.

Question is, was Jessan right, back there at Cirron? He said he could see a connection between us.. Is there really some... attachment... between her and I? Or is it just my imagination? Wishful thinking.. Yeah, probably. We’re not like his people. His parents. You could see the bond there between them, the love that showed in their eyes when they looked at each other. We’re close.. I know that… but that close? I doubt it. She’s the Amazon Queen.. I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted it to stay that way.. and if she does, well.. we’ll just go on, and forget about what might have been.

The pain of that thought was a lot more than she expected. Grimly, she blew out a long breath, then stood, and dusted herself off. Crossed to where her sword was leaning against a log, and grasped the hilt firmly, drawing the weapon. Watched moonlight chase up and down the long blade.

"Guess I’d better do some drills, Argo." she muttered to the mare, who whinnied back. "If I keep it up long enough, I might even tire myself out enough to go to sleep." Besides, I know I could probably use it. Haven’t been getting much of that in lately. Putting the reason for that out of her mind, she walked into a small clear space and began to silently attack her unseen enemies.

Stroke and counterstroke, feinting and shifting, and as her muscles loosened up, and the movements turned faster and more deadly, she was almost able to lose herself in the exercise. A flip over an invisible swordsman, keeping her feet tucked in to avoid his upstroke, a turn on landing and a parry, another flip, this time with a mid air twist to allow her sword arm to descend and strike. A tumble on landing, coming back up and advancing, whirling her sword in a complex pattern. For a long march of the moon across the sky, without stopping, until finally she stood quietly, chest heaving, regarding the scattered leaf pattern on the forest floor. Yeah, I thought I needed to start this up again. Some of those moves didn’t used to be so hard.

Sighing in disgust, Xena walked back to the slumbering fire, absently wiping down the hilt of her sword, and returning it to the leather sheath still leaning against the rock. She slid down onto her bedroll, and propped one knee up, wrapping her long arms around it, and gazed sightlessly ahead of her. Then her head turned, as her ears picked up a faint sound, not far away. Puzzled, her eyes flicked over the nearby floor, and she jerked slightly as she spotted something small and moving her way.

"Well, well." she muttered, laying down at full length on the bedroll, which brought her close to the source of the noise, a muted mewling. "what have we here?" A small, dark, furry face looked back at her, with unblinking yellow eyes. "Where did you come from?" she asked, putting out a tentative hand and letting the animal sniff suspiciously. "Where’s your mama?" Looking up in case mama was trotting behind junior into her campsite. Sighing, she watched as the little puppy, apparently well satisfied with what it found in her scent, crawled closer to her and sat down on her hand. "Oh no." The puppy blinked at her. "I don’t think so. Let’s go find mama." She lifted the puppy up, soothing it with her other hand as it started squeaking in alarm. "All right... all right.." And brought the puppy close to her, cupping it against her chest and peering at it half in amusement, half in annoyance. The animal calmed down, and nuzzled her skin, letting out a tiny sigh, and closing it’s eyes.

The absurdity forced a laugh from the warrior against her will. "I don’t believe this." she rolled her eyes. "What is it with me?" Shaking her head, she stood up, and walked to the edge of the firelight, pausing to cock her head, and listen intently. Her brow furrowed, and she closed her eyes in concentration. Nothing. Then...a cough. Her blood chilled, and she reached behind her and grasped the hilt of her sword in pure reflex, still cradling the puppy in one hand.

Metal scraped leather as she drew, and stepped out into the surrounding darkness, every sense alert, putting the wind into her face. Catching the faintest hint of a familiar metallic tang on the wind, and moving grimly towards it.

Moving with more caution than she would have used normally. Placing every footstep with an exactness that stirred not a leaf, crackled not a twig, avoiding even brushing the feathery ferns with her passing. Letting the blood scent grow in her lungs, until she stood outside a ring of trees and rocks, and could hear the sounds of an animal feeding within. With infinite care, she reached out her sword hand, and moved a heavy branch slightly, allowing her to get a view of what was in the clearing.

Green yellow eyes met hers, and with a flash of solid white fangs, and a rush of clawed feet, the hunter was on her, too close for her sword, hot breath blasting in her face. Desperate, she dropped to her back, and caught the animal with a kick that sent it over her head, yowling in surprise. She dropped the sword and puppy, and got her hands up into a defensive position as the cat, twisting in mid air, landed on it’s feet, lashing it’s tail, and launched itself back at her, tearing at her arms with razor sharp claws. Grimly, Xena ignored the searing pain as the animal slashed her, and thrust her arms past, getting a grip on the cat’s throat, and holding on.

The animal landed on top of her, fangs inches from her face, claws digging into her, but catching on the leathers, and holding. Xena’s strong hands clenched hard, seeing the bulge in the cat’s eyes, the sudden change from hunter to hunted, as she cut off it’s breathing. Now it scrambled to get away from her, struggling against her grip.

"Oh no." She growled, rolling over, and pinning the cat to the ground with her weight, bending her head until she was almost touching the cat’s shoulder, and bore down, willing her hands to close tighter, feeling the animal’s windpipe give under her fingers.

At last, it was still under her. Stiffly, she unwrapped her fingers from the rumpled fur, and swallowed hard. Watching the blood trickle down her arms to her shaking hands from the long wicked gashes that raked her from shoulder to elbow. Gods. She sat down and rested her elbows on her knees and caught her breath. A small meeping sound was the puppy, scared, scrambling towards her with quiet desperation. She looked at it, unhappily, as it reached her and huddled against her thigh. Damn. Wincing, she reached down and picked it up, then hauled herself to her feet, and walked into the clearing the cat had been guarding.

And closed her eyes against what she saw. Messy with blood, and the scattered tiny bodies of the puppy’s brothers and sisters. To one side, the mother wolf was laying, with her head facing towards Xena, blood pumping out of the great rent in her belly. Yellow eyes, already glazing in death, staring at the tall human, no... staring at what she gingerly carried. Xena slowly walked over to they dying animal, and knelt down, seeing no fear, only anguish in those eyes. She put the puppy down next to it’s mother’s muzzle, and cautiously looked at the animal’s injury.

No. Way too much damage, even if she knew how to fix it. She glanced down, and saw the mother vainly trying to lick the puppy, who was nuzzling her mouth anxiously. She hesitated, then let her fingers drop to the wolf’s neck, probing and finding a spot which felt familiar. Squeezing, and seeing the animal’s body go limp, as pain and feeling vanished.

The yellow eyes found hers, then blinked, then glazed, and the chest stilled. Xena bit her lip hard and turned her gaze to the dejected puppy, who gave the now dry nose a final little lick and sat back with a plaintive cry. It’s tiny head tilted back, and regarded Xena with bewildered and helpless eyes. Don’t even think about it, Xena. She closed her eyes against the thought. It’s survival of the fittest, remember? Animals die every day. Reluctantly, she glanced down at the puppy. It wobbled onto it’s feet, and stumbled over to her, bumping it’s nose on her knee, and bouncing back on it’s haunches with a little whine. The eyes found hers, and she felt her heart lurch. Damn. I am just getting to be a bundle of mush "Come on." she muttered, scooping up the animal. "I’m sure mother could use a watchdog. " She cradled the puppy as she walked back to her camp, stopping to retrieve her sword on the way, and take a last look at the dark pelted panther, still in the grass. It was huge. That could be me, lying there. Xena mused thoughtfully. Not my day, I guess.

Argo nickered anxiously at her as she moved back into their camp, smelling the blood on her, and the odd scent of her little orphan. She patted the mare’s shoulder, and let her smell the puppy. "It’s OK, girl. Just a few scratches." The warrior mumbled, putting the puppy down on her bedroll, and sinking down next to it, pulling over her medical kit with a sigh. "These are sure going to be interesting scars." she muttered to the puppy, who blinked up at her. "Ouch." she winced. The cleanser stung, but she grimly kept on, until the blood stopped seeping, and she’d gotten a herbal paste onto the long gashes.

The puppy meeped at her. Glancing down, she sighed. "At least you eat meat, right?" she asked, getting out a bit of smoked venison. "Sorry, it’s cooked." She held it out to the small creature, who sniffed, sneezed, then started to nibble on a corner. Against her will, a ghost of a grin twitched across Xena’s face. In her mind, she could hear the delighted coos from Gabrielle on spotting this little bundle. And the teasing she would have gotten for bringing it back to camp. And the terror the bard would have felt when she was fighting off the panther. For a moment, she almost felt the ghostly touch of familiar hand on her shoulder. Stop it. Don’t get started with that.

Idly, she rolled the puppy over. "Well, little man." she mused, ruffling her fingers through his soft fur. "I don’t know what made you come my way, but I guess I can find you a good home." The puppy growled, and nibbled her finger with mock ferocity. She picked him up, and settled back on the bedroll, placing the puppy on her stomach, and stroking it’s head. Realizing how totally incongruous a scene it was. I should leave him.. it.. here. And thought about what Gabrielle would say if she heard her say that. And smiled in wry resignation. Nope. She wouldn’t like that one bit. "You’re lucky." she growled back at the puppy, who was now nodding sleepily at her. "I’m only doing this because of her, you know. She’d kill me if she found out I left you."

The puppy sneezed at her, and snuggled down, sticking out it’s curved pink tongue in a tiny yawn, then settling his dark head on his paws and closing his eyes. "I’m not going to name you." she went on, as several possibilities immediately crowded into her tired mind. Ares, for instance. Hmm.. no that was asking for trouble. So was Hercules. No no.. stop it. Don’t name him. Though... she peered at the sleeping bundle. With that coloring he did remind her a bit of Ares...Xena, STOP IT. RIGHT NOW. She shook her head, and firmly closed her eyes, feeling the comforting warmth of the small body through her leathers. And cupping her hands protectively about him, she dropped into an exhausted sleep.

Just outside the Amazon Village...

Ephiny had, as promised, met Gabrielle as she crossed the border into Amazon country. She had actually managed to hear the approaching Amazon before she showed herself, for which the bard patted herself silently on the back. Xena’s lessons had begun to stick, recently, and she found herself more aware of what was going on around her, without having to consciously think about it. If she closed her eyes, she could hear that low voice. "Be aware, Gabrielle. The world is talking to you. Listen.."

But that brought that quiet ache back, and she lost track of what Ephiny was saying. "Sorry.. what was that again?" she said, laying a hand on the Amazon’s arm. "I lost that last bit."

Ephiny turned and looked at her, concerned. "Gabrielle, are you OK?" she questioned, lowering her voice. "You look worried. Or distracted. Or something. I can’t tell."

The bard rubbed her temple, avoiding Ephiny’s sharp gaze. "Yeah, I’m OK." she assured her, patting the Amazon’s arm. "I’m just a little tired, I guess. I didn’t get much sleep last night." She glanced down the path, where the rest of Ephiny’s greeting party were paused, waiting for them to catch up. "I’ll be fine." she finished, making an effort to give the blond woman a reassuring smile. "You were saying, about the centaurs?"

Ephiny gave her a last searching look, then sighed. "Last I talked to them, they were willing to at least discuss the possibility of having a jointly defended border. I’ve managed to keep the few incidents between us on the level of just ‘oh you know, girls will be girls, and centaurs will be centaurs’, but it’s getting a little weak."

Gabrielle smiled. "I see your point." She chewed her lip. "Have you disciplined the Amazons who were involved in the ‘incidents’?"

The Amazon gave a little shrug. "There’s a problem."

"Arella?" the bard asked, knowingly.

Ephiny nodded. "Most of the women involved are in her little trendy group. She protects them, saying they only have the good of the nation at heart. And, people do see her point."

"Uh huh." Gabrielle mused. "I don’t know, Ephiny - sounds like she’s the major problem." She walked a few more paces. "Does she really believe she’s doing the right thing?"

Ephiny shook her head. "Does she? Who knows. Does it matter? She’s doing it."

The bard stopped walking, and stared at her. "Ephiny! Of course it matters. When someone does something, you have to know why they’re doing it, or you can’t figure out a way to make them stop." Her brow furrowed. "When people do things because they really believe in them, it’s really hard to get in the way." Her gaze grew distant for a moment, then cleared. "but sometimes you can." A smile that puzzled Ephiny slid onto Gabrielle’s face. "It depends, on what your relationship is to that person."

Ephiny gave her a sideways glance. "OK." she finally answered, putting a hand on Gabrielle’s shoulder and guiding her towards a familiar entranceway. "There’s the village. Let’s get this over with."

Arella waited, relaxing on the raised shaded area in front of her quarters, for Ephiny to return with their quote queen unquote. A few of her cronies lounged around nearby, taking in the sun with bored expressions. Ephiny was pathetic, really. Pretending she hadn’t gone running for this non Amazon pretender queen as soon as she realized she was going to have some real competition for a change. Arella rolled her gray eyes, shaking her head in disgust.

"What?" Erika purred, leaning against the pole she was seated next to. "Let me guess. Ephiny? The queen? The weather?"

Arella smirked. "Two out of three ain’t bad, Rika." She grinned up at the smaller woman. "I can’t believe she’s actually bringing her back here." She stretched lazily, admiring the ripple of muscle in her long arms. "She must be nuts."

Erika seated herself next to Arella, dusting off the tops of her laced boots. "Well, maybe." she shrugged. "Eph isn’t stupid, she’s just...I don’t know..."

"A wimp?" Arella proffered, with a bright grin. "A wuss? No...anyone who gives birth to a centaur can’t be a wuss...I take that back."

"A pacifist." Erika concluded, crossing her arms over her chest. "I just don’t get that."

"Me either, but here they come." Arella jerked her chin towards the village entrance, where Ephiny’s honor guard were trooping in, followed by Ephiny herself and their oh gods... queen by rite of caste.

"Well, at least Eph got her to wear the clothes this time." Erika smirked, nudging Arella in the ribs.

"Yeah." the taller woman mused, studying the strawberry blond woman at Ephiny’s side. "And she doesn’t look too bad in them, either." This could get interesting. She watched the queen move across the compound, noting the ripple of muscle in her upper arms and torso. The sense of sureness in her movements. The knowledgeable grip on that staff . The alertness in her gaze, as she swiveled to take in the village, while listening to Ephiny’s ramble.

"Don’t get any ideas." Erika rumbled in her ear. "Remember who her best friend is, ok? You don’t want to be tangling with her."

Arella snorted. "You think I’m scared of Xena?" She took another long look at the queen. "I’m not. Besides, the longest campfire debate in the nation is whether or not those two are an item. You in the betting pool? I am."

Erika tilted her dark head. "I’m telling you, Arella. I’ve seen her fight, you haven’t. Don’t mess with her, because let me tell you, she is one really big piece of very bad news." But she knew it was a lost cause. She’d seen that look in Arella’s gray eyes before. "Whether or not they’re together isn’t the point - she’s really protective of that little squirt."

"Yeah, but she’s not here." Arella smiled lazily. "And I am." She glanced over at Erika, waggling one crimson tinged eyebrow. "Who knows? Maybe she’s in the market for some fresh action." She tilted her fiery head, and watched the queen stand, arms crossed, as Ephiny pointed out the new ceremonial platform they had recently built. Rebuilt, she reminded herself with a snort. "Besides, I just bet she can tell some great...stories." She smirked at Erika.

"Oh gods." Erika sighed, rolling her eyes. "Just remember, when the centaur poop starts flying, I won’t be anywhere near you. I don’t want that woman after my butt."

"Chicken." Arella scoffed, giving Erika a shove. "Maybe I’ll do it just to take her on." She stood up. "C’mon. I’m going to get introduced to this little fake Amazon." She waited for Erika to join her, then set off across the compound.

Gabrielle saw them coming, and motioned to Ephiny with a tilt of her head and one raised eyebrow. Ephiny darted a glance to her right, and sighed, glancing at the ground and crossing her arms.

The bard appraised the approaching pair out of the corner of her eye. She’s big, all right. A lot of muscle there, but somehow it doesn’t look really functional. she mused. Like it’s for show. So, maybe she is, too. She heard a familiar voice in her head comment, as Arella moved closer. "When people try to intimidate you, Gabrielle, stand your ground, and smile. It’s the smile that gets em nervous." She grinned to herself, picturing the glint in those blue eyes and the demonstration of that smile. Oh yeah... gets em nervous all right. She kept that picture in her mind as Arella stepped into her personal space, and loomed over her.

And leaned casually on her staff, stood her ground, and let her mouth quirk in amusement. "I’m sorry, I guess we haven’t met." she commented, holding out a hand. "I’m Gabrielle."

Arella had to step back to take her hand, and was taken off balance. The reaction was not at all what she was used to. The woman didn’t look in the least bit intimidated by her, in fact, she seemed to be amused. "Arella. Yeah. Well, hello." she answered, warily, taking the offered hand, and shaking it gingerly. Surprised by the strength of the grasp, and the feel of calluses under her fingertips. Green eyes looked directly up into hers, and she blinked first, startled by the compelling nature of the look. "Nice to meet you." she managed. "I’ve heard a lot about you. From Ephiny, I mean." She glanced over at the blond Amazon, who was watching the exchange with interest. "Glad you made it. Maybe we can talk sometime. " She gave Gabrielle a brisk nod, and backed off, strolling towards the communal dining hall. Erika followed, darting glances back at the queen and Ephiny from time to time.

"Wow." Erika blinked. "She’s..."

"Yeah." Arella snapped, scowling. "More than I thought. This could be trouble."

Ephiny managed to hold in a giggle until they were out of sight, then lost it in a very undignified way. "Oh.." she gasped, grabbing Gabrielle’s arm. "that was perfect. You were perfect." She took a deep breath. "Oh, where did you learn to do that? It was great."

Gabrielle chuckled quietly. "I have a very good teacher, Ephiny." She grinned at the Amazon. "Who knows lots and lots about intimidation."

"Ah" Ephiny laughed. "Of course. Figures." She had a mental picture of Gabrielle getting lessons on the subject from Xena. "Did she teach you the ‘look’?"

Gabrielle composed herself, then dropped an intense expression onto her face, and ducked her head down, narrowing her eyes slightly, and looking directly into Ephiny’s startled gaze.

"Yow!" the Amazon breathed, jaw dropping. "You got that down pat!" She burst out laughing again. "I can’t believe you got her to show you how to do that."

The bard joined in chuckling. "She’s actually a lot of fun, once you get to know her." she admitted, ignoring Ephiny’s raised eyebrow. Fun. Yeah. That too... "But I guess I get to see a different side of her." she admitted, noticing the skeptical look on the Amazon’s face.

"I guess so." Ephiny allowed, giving Gabrielle an indulgent grin. "Let’s get you settled into your quarters, your Majesty." Ignoring the rolled eyes, as she led the way towards a larger hut set some distance apart from the others.

Amphipolis...

Xena sat quietly on Argo’s back, surveying the valley below her. Home. Amphipolis. "Been a while, Argo." she muttered to the mare, who flared her nostrils into the oncoming breeze. She looked down, and scratched little Ares...no, damn. I am NOT going to name him that. ..on his head, and watched as he chewed contentedly on a piece of her leather skirting. The animal had been an unexpected comfort, she grudgingly admitted to herself. Keeping her thoughts on something other than what was going on two days north of here. Giving her something to focus on that didn’t involve thinking about possibilities. Or the lack of them.

She glanced up, and spotted a person on horseback, heading out from the village, and grinned a little in recognition as the rider moved closer and turned out to be her brother, Toris, on a long limbed roan stallion with a rough gait. Still can’t sit a horse worth a damn. "Come on, Argo." she said to the mare, as she kneed her forward towards the road.

Toris didn’t see her until she was almost on top of him. Typical. He straightened in the saddle, and gave a little yell as Argo came even with him. "Xena!" He grinned wholeheartedly. "Boy am I glad to see you."

"Oh yeah?" Xena said, giving him a sideways glance. "What’s wrong?"

Toris scowled. "Can’t I be glad to see you just because your my sister?"

Xena raised an eyebrow at him. And waited in silence.

Toris rolled his eyes, blue as hers, and gave a little sheepish shrug. "OK, well, I am glad to see you. But..." He glanced down at her saddle. "What is that?" He leaned over and got closer to it. "Is that what I think it is?" He looked up at Xena with a wicked grin. "You got a puppy. How cute."

Xena somehow, managed to keep herself from backhanding him off his horse. It was a struggle, though. "No." she growled. "You have a puppy." But she didn’t relinquish her hold on the small creature. "I was bringing it to mother."

Toris laughed. "Oh, right." He looked at her. "Hey, you look good. But what did you do to your arms?" Leaning forward to get a good luck at the angry red marks. "That looks recent."

His sister sighed, and jerked her chin towards the bundle of fur. "Mother was killed by a panther." She met Toris’ horrified gaze, with an air of nonchalance. Tweaking him was always fun. I’d forgotten that. Mostly.

"You got that animal away from a panther?" He reeled in his saddle. "Xena, you’re nuts."

"I didn’t say I got it away from a panther." Xena commented, watching his brows contort. "It wasn’t anywhere near the panther."

"Oh." Toris answered, relieved. "That’s a relief. For a minute there, I thought you were going to tell me you fought off a panther on it’s behalf." He chuckled. "Those mountain panthers are far too dangerous to play around with."

"No, " Xena drawled casually. "I fought off the panther because it jumped on top of me." She glanced at him. "The puppy just got lucky." she continued, pretending she didn’t see his jaw drop, and his horse stop in it’s tracks. Her eyes gleamed with amusement. Served him right. She turned as rapid hoofbeats caught her up, then slowed as he came abreast of her again.

"A panther." he repeated, wincing at the healing gouges on her shoulders. "Boy, Xena." he shook his head. "So, where’s your bard friend?"

Xena had practiced the answer to this. "Running the Amazons for a while." In an unconcerned tone. She glanced at him, and their eyes met, and Xena got an idea of what it was like to look into eyes as vivid as her own. It was interesting. Maybe that went a long way towards explaining that very odd look Gabrielle got sometimes when they were spending time just...Anyway. "They’re having some problems with their neighbors. "

Toris considered this for a moment. "So.. why her?" he asked, puzzled. He sort of liked the little bard, and had a sneaking suspicion his hard as nails sister more than sort of liked her too.

Xena shrugged. "Well, she is the queen by rite of caste, Toris. She thinks it’s her responsibility to try and help them out." She shrugged. "She’s big on responsibility."

"Really?" Toris was intrigued. He knew about the Amazons. Most did, who lived in this general area." Just how did that happen?"

"Long story. " Xena said, glancing ahead. "I’ll tell you later, but you better tell me what’s going on first, before I have to hear it from mother. "

Toris accepted the change of subject gracefully. "OK. Well, yeah - it’s been rough around here lately. There are two warlords in the general area, and they’ve sort of divvied up territory between them. We’re about in the middle, and get harassed by both. "

"Harassed?" Xena asked, quietly, feeling her temper start to rise.

"Yeah." Toris sighed. "They ride in, take food, take supplies, that sort of thing. Or sometimes they just want cash payment, in return for which they don’t come back for a while. " He didn’t meet Xena’s eyes. "You know what I mean."

His sister nodded. "I know exactly what you mean."

"So anyway." he continued awkwardly. "it’s hard, and it’s made business slow. Mother’s worried about the inn." His eyes turned to her. "I think she’s going to be glad to see you. She’s talked about you a lot, lately."

Xena snorted. "I can imagine, given what you’re going through with warlords, one of which I used to be." Her eyes closed in disgust. "Maybe coming here was a mistake."

Toris grabbed her arm, startled when he felt her flinch, then remembered who it was he was grabbing. "Sorry." he muttered, but didn’t let go. "Listen...the only thing that’s kept us whole, Xena... the only thing... is the fact that both those warlords know who we are. They know I’m your brother. And she’s your mother. And they won’t touch us. There are three villages in smoking ruins to the south, and another to the east. But not us. " He smiled a little. "They’re scared of you, little sister."

Xena raised an eyebrow at him. "Little?" she chuckled wryly. "Watch it. Or you’ll find out just how little I’m not."

"Oh yeah?" Toris grinned, reaching out again and grabbing one forearm. "Is that a challenge?"

"Toris." Xena growled, reaching down and clamping a good hold on Argo with her long legs. "I’m not in the mood." Grimly, she tucked the puppy into a saddle pouch as Toris began to try and lever her arm. "Cut it out."

Toris laughed in delight. "Oh ho...I’ve got you now!" He pulled enthusiastically on the arm, trying to unbalance her. "Yow!" he yelped in surprise, as he was lifted out of his saddle and dumped on the dusty ground, losing his hold. "How do you DO that?"

Xena shook her head as she adjusted her bracer. "You never learn." She nudged Argo towards the inn. "Come on, let’s go." Sighing as he laughed and leaped back aboard the roan and followed.

The inn was at the edge of town, a one story building with a heavy door in front which closed in a seating area, and was backed by a service bar which hid the kitchen and cooking areas from the patrons. At this time of day, it was empty, though recently the time of day hadn’t been very relevant to the number of customers frequenting the place. A stocky woman of middling height leaned against the service bar, regarding the empty room with a somewhat grim expression.

"Cyrene, do you think we have enough barley here to do a stew?" Johan’s gentle voice reached her, disturbing her thoughts.

"Hmm?" she answered, leaning stiffly to peer at what he was doing. "Oh, yes. Johan. We have enough. Go ahead." She sighed. Barely. And if there were more would depend on if there were enough guests to pay for this potload. She wiped her hands on her apron, and moved back to the counter, resting her elbows on the worn wood and gazing, unseeing, at the late afternoon sunlight pouring into the front of the inn.

Business had been bad for a long time. Even the locals kept to their homesteads, not wanting to advertise the fact that they had dinars to spend on food and drink, where someone from the warlord’s troops might see them. And the troops confiscated everything they could get their hands on, leaving the villagers with ends and odd lots, mostly. Survival, but just getting by all the time made people angry, and upset, and it just got worse. She got angry, a lot, at the warlords, and their soldiers, at the meekness of her fellow villagers, but she was just one, aging, worn out woman. They needed something more. She moved to the window with a lightness that belied her years, and stood gazing out at the road, and across it towards the balance of the village. After a moment, Johan joined her. "Stew’s on." he commented. "Will Toris be back for dinner?"

Cyrene shrugged. "Probably. He usually doesn’t miss a meal." She let a quirk frame her mouth for a moment, thinking of her eldest son. He was a good boy, really. She loved him, but though she never said it, she kept looking in him to see the fire of Lyceus, and never found it. And sometimes, like now, she looked at him hoping to see some of his sister’s courage, and didn’t find that either. Xena. His sister. Her daughter. Cyrene shook her head in bemusement. It was hard to believe sometimes. And though she had once both feared and disowned her fierce offspring, now.. now.. she had gotten a feeling that, given time, she could both come to appreciate, and even like the woman grown from the wild little girl she’d borne. Their last parting had been warm, and Cyrene had almost grown comfortable thinking about who Xena was, now. And found herself wishing, more and more often, that she would be given the opportunity to get closer to her.

"Here he comes now." Johan commented. "He’s not alone." he continued, surprise tingeing his rough voice. He had spotted two horses heading their way. One Toris’ roan, the other a golden colored animal with a cream mane and tail. With a rider almost Toris’ height, and with his coloring. "Zeus...that can’t be who I think it is, can it?"

"Gods." Cyrene whispered, spotting them. "I can’t believe it." She grinned, for the first time in a long while. "It’s my daughter." She headed for the door, Johan right behind her. "Of all the times for her to just show up...at the moment I was thinking about her."

The two siblings pulled their horses up to the inn’s tie off rail, and dismounted, Xena handing something to Toris before she headed for the door, and her mother’s compact form. "Mother." she nodded, in greeting, faintly surprised when Cyrene wrapped her arms around her in a brisk hug. She returned it, and with a small grin, lifted the smaller woman off her feet. "Nice to see you too."

"Let me down!" Cyrene laughed, pounding Xena on the back. "Show off." But she was smiling, and continued to smile, as she grasped her daughters arm, and tugged her inside the inn. "Let me see you." Her eyes drank in the tall form, wincing as she spotted the angry claw marks. "What have you been doing?" Not waiting for an answer. "Where’s Gabrielle?"

Toris sat down on a nearby bench, looking amused. "She’s running the Amazons."

"Really?" Cyrene and Johan asked together. "How did that happen?" Cyrene glanced at Toris. "And where did you get that wolf?"

Sister and brother looked at each other, in the way that only siblings could. "I think we’d better sit down, so I only have to say this once." Xena sighed.

The Amazon Village compound, Queen’s hut...

Gabrielle sat pensively, chewing the tip of her quill as she considered her next words. It was late on her first night in the village, and she had decided, since sleep seemed to be eluding her again, to keep a sort of running diary of her thoughts.

A light knock sounded on her doorpost, and she glanced up sharply. It was a little late for visitors. "Come in." And was somehow not surprised when it was Arella’s tall form that darkened the doorway verge. As she had told Jessan, sometimes you just knew when people meant to do bad things to you; Now was one of those times, she knew in her gut Arella was no friend, nor ever could be, because she wanted power and Gabrielle had it, and her conversation with Xena came sharply into focus as the tall, powerfully built Amazon sauntered into her hut, and stood gazing at her with unfeigned interest.

"Hi." Gabrielle said, closing the tied scroll she was writing in, and leaning back in her chair. "You’re up late." She kept eye contact with the tall redhead, waiting to see what her next move was. What would Xena do? She’d stay cool, and relaxed, and pretend nothing was wrong. Right. OK. Here we go.

"Yeah, well." Arella said, casually, seating herself in the chair opposite the bard’s desk. "I was out scouting, and saw you still had a torch lit. Thought I’d drop in and say hello." She studied the woman behind the desk critically. "You know, not to get personal or anything, but we probably could get you a sleep shirt that fit." Damn... she looks like a little kid in that thing. Ephiny should know better than that, though I suppose she’d say what the queen wears to bed is her own business. Maybe I can make it my business. A smile curved her lips upwards. "You are the queen. "

Gabrielle let a slight smile cross her face, and glanced down at the ink stained quill twirling in her fingers. The shirt was too big for her, the shoulders slid half way down her arms, and the length was almost to her knees. Not surprisingly. "No, this is just right. I like them this way." She assured Arella with a cordial grin. "But thanks for asking."

The redhead shrugged. "Your choice." she looked around the room. "So, how do you like it so far? This must be different that what you’re used to." she returned her gaze to the bard’s face, still and reserved in the faintly flickering torchlight. She’s harder to read than I thought she’d be. I used to think Xena kept her around for laughs. Now I’m not so sure. Nice eyes.

"Well," the bard laughed. "not exactly. I spend a lot of time sleeping on the ground, for one thing. She glanced at the walls. "Or in small village inns." Her eyes studied Arella. "And, occasionally, in the odd palace or two." She stood up, and walked over to her pouch, putting the manuscript inside of it. Aware of the eyes on her. "So.. did you find anything interesting while you were scouting?"

"Oh, this and that." Arella drawled, "But I shouldn’t keep you up." Saying that, she stood and stretched, and sauntered over to where Gabrielle was standing. Let’s give this a try. Should be amusing. She flicked the bard’s overlong sleeve with one hand, and smiled. "So, you like them big, huh?" Capturing the green eyes with her own. "I’m the yardstick they use to gauge that around here."

Gabrielle blinked at her, innocently. "How nice for you." she smiled. "that must make you feel pretty special." Folding her arms across her chest, and catching the faint, familiar scent rising from the fabric, which shielded her against the edgy energy flowing from the Amazon standing far closer to her than courtesy demanded.

"It does." Arella answered, quietly, then stepped back, and gave Gabrielle a little flourish with one hand. "your majesty." And then she was gone, gliding out the door with neat precision.

Gabrielle sighed, shaking her head and laughing a bit to herself. Pity she doesn’t realize I’m used to a different yardstick. One about 3 inches taller. She giggled. and about a thousand times more...she tried to find a word to describe it. Complicated? Maybe. Complex? Definitely. Dangerous? Oh, no question there.

"Gabrielle?" Ephiny’s head poked in the doorway, a worried look on her face. She spotted the bard near the bed, apparently deep in thought, but the green eyes lifted after a second and found hers. "Everything OK?" she edged into the room, flicking her eyes around. "I saw Arella come out of here." she walked over to Gabrielle, concern edging her voice.

"Everything’s fine, Ephiny." the bard sighed. "Please stop worrying. I can handle myself." She added, with a touch of annoyance. "she just came in to pass the time of night, I guess, and to...I don’t know... play around with me a little." She glanced up at Ephiny, who was looking at her with an inscrutable expression. "She’s really obnoxious." she added, making a face.

Ephiny snorted in laughter. "She thinks she’s irresistible, you know. We call her Arella the Irresistible behind her back." I guess she’s not to Gabrielle. Won’t that be a ego sinker. "She’s made a lot of her.. er.. conquests that way." She scowled a bit. "She’s pretty persistent. You let me know if she gets to be too much of a bother." She tilted her head to one side and her brow furrowed. "And, where on earth did you get that shirt? It’s way too big."

Gabrielle gave a deep sigh. "I know." she said, bursting out laughing. "Arella said the same thing." She sat down on the bed and wrapped her arms around herself. "If I’d have known Amazon Queens frequently got visitors way after late watch, I would have dressed more appropriately." She glanced at Ephiny, who still seemed to be waiting for some kind of explanation. She raised her hands in surrender. "All right, all right, look - I grabbed it by mistake when I was packing, OK? It’s pretty obviously.." and she held out the shoulders. "one of Xena’s. So...can we get on to the next subject, please?" Grabbed it, yeah. By mistake? Uh.. sure. Right.

"OK..OK.." Ephiny held out both hands, laughing. "I get the picture." Do I? Hmm.. I wonder. . She sobered. "but be careful with Arella, OK, ? Listen, we’re friends, right?" she caught the bard’s eye.

"You know we are." Gabrielle answered, warmly. Though you used to think I was Xena’s pet. Not anymore...

"All right. I know you don’t want to drag Xena into this." Ephiny said, seriously, reaching out and touching Gabrielle’s arm. "But your being queen is not going to keep Arella away from you." A wince crossed her face. "She doesn’t like taking no for an answer." A grim look formed. "So, if you have to use Xena’s rep to beat off Arella, don’t you feel bad about it. Don’t, please? I asked you to come here because I thought it was important, but I don’t want to see anything happen to you, I really don’t." Because, among other things. Xena will never forgive me for that. And she will take this place apart. I know it. "Look." she lowered her voice. "Everyone knows you and Xena... are really close. Right? Nobody in their right mind is going to cross her, Gabrielle." Her eyes flicked briefly to her shirt, then back to her face, a glance the bard didn’t miss.

Gabrielle stayed silent for a long time. Everyone knows, huh? She grinned to herself. Finally she tilted her head in acknowledgment. "Thanks. I appreciate that, Ephiny. A lot." She looked at the ground thoughtfully. "You’re right. I don’t want to drag Xena into this. That was the whole point of her not coming here with me, remember?" The Amazon nodded. "I’ll do that only as a last resort. And this wasn’t a last resort." She moved over to her working table, and picked up a small item, idly turning it in her fingers. "Besides, Xena told me more or less to do the same thing." she gave Ephiny a little smile. "She warned me there would probably be some people like Arella around." She was right. Gods, I hate when she’s always right.

Ephiny had to be satisfied with that. Reluctantly, she nodded, and turned to go. "That’ll have to do, then. Good night." She gave the bard a brisk nod, and walked to the door, passing through it and into the night, almost bumping into one of her own lieutenants. "Watch it, Granella."

"So.. what did the Irresistible one want?" the slim brunette asked, falling into step next to Ephiny. "Already making designs on our new leader? She doesn’t waste time."

Ephiny snorted. "Yeah, but Gabrielle sent her packing. Must have been a shock." She gave Granella a sly grin. "However, I discovered that our queen sleeps in one of Xena’s old shirts, so you might want to pass that around. It might save her some headaches."

Granella chortled lightly. "Oh ho...really?" Her elfin face broke into a grin. "Aww.. that’s sweet, Eph."

Ephiny grinned along with her. "Yeah, it is, isn’t it? I guess I’m still a romantic at heart."

Her lieutenant raised an eyebrow. "I guess you are, but I never figured Xena to be." She cocked her head thoughtfully. "You sure it isn’t an advanced case of hero worship?"

Ephiny thought about that while they walked across to Ephiny’s quarters. "I used to be pretty sure it was. Now..." She shook her curly head. "There’s something there, Gran. Something that runs pretty deep. I don’t exactly how deep, but if I were Arella, I sure wouldn’t want to find out."

"Well, you’re not. And boy am I glad." Granella snorted. "You up for a little hot spiced wine? It’s getting cooler at night." She waggled an eyebrow in invitation. "C’mon, let us fawn over you for a change."

Ephiny smiled, lifting her hands in resignation. "All right... why not. I want to hear the latest gossip from the scouts anyway. Let’s go."

Amphipolis, early morning...

Xena opened one blue eye cautiously, blinking a little in the pre dawn gloom. She took in her surroundings, and relaxed, stretching her long limbs out and yawning a bit. The stable walls could barely been seen, and the only real light was coming in the glazed window which bisected the hay loft she was comfortably curled up in. A rustling sound drew her attention, and she peered down at the tiny ball of fur nestled in the crook of her arm. Great. Just great. All these people and he picks me to attach himself to.

The puppy had followed Xena all over the inn last night, causing a lot of giggling at her expense. She had tried to ignore both it and him, but finally had ended up picking the beast up, and carrying him around, fully aware of the amused grins from both her family and the curious villagers. "You’re ruining my image." she muttered to the sleepy puppy, who opened his yellow eyes, and blinked at her, then stretched his tiny head out across her forearm, and yawned, making little satisfied noises. A tiny pink tongue appeared, and tasted the inside of her elbow. "Hey!" the warrior hissed, biting her lip. "That tickles." She clapped her hand over her mouth, and darted a glance around the barn. Then she put her lips down close to the puppy’s tiny ear. "If you ever, ever, so much as breath a word of that to anyone, I’ll make you into a fur muff." She glared at the pup. "Got it?"

The yellow eyes looked up at her solemnly. Then the pink tongue licked the edge of her nose, and the puppy nestled closer to her. Xena shook her head in amused disgust. "I know I’m going to regret this." she said to no one in particular. "If Gabrielle ever sees this, I’ll never live it down." If. That turned her thoughts sober. She laid her head down on her outstretched arm, gently petting the small form with her other hand. "I wonder what she’s doing right now, Ares." she whispered wistfully to the half asleep wolf. Glancing at the window. "Sleeping, probably." she concluded with a tiny grin.

The argument with mother had been pretty spectacular, she mused, as she rolled onto her back and regarded the ceiling not far from her head. She had wanted to pay for a room, seeing the bare cupboards in the inn kitchen, and having the dinars. Mother... had refused, saying she was not going to have people say she was making profit off her own family. She’s stubborn. Xena admitted, wryly. But then, so am I. The money was refused, so Xena had simply refused the room, saying she’d rather snug down with Argo.

Actually, she reflected, it was true. The hayloft had been one of her favorite childhood haunts. She lifted a hand, and brushed her fingertips across a scarred wooden crossbeam, tracing deeply engraved lines there. Her name. Lyceus’ also. They had lain side by side, making up stories about how they were going to be great warriors when they grew up. And one day, after Xena had found part of a long forgotten blade in a field not far away, they had crudely carved their names in the crossbeam. She swallowed hard, then glanced at the window again.

Time to earn my keep. Came the sardonic thought. Mother won’t take money. All right... but I bet she’ll take meat for the pot. A grin curved it’s way around her mouth. And that I can do. Along with fixing up some of the stuff around the place, gods, which hasn’t been done in years. Yeah... maybe it’s about time I put some sweat into the old inn. Hades knows mother has been for ever. She rolled over, and dropped out of the hayloft, landing neatly not far from where Argo was dozing, startling the mare. "Sorry, girl." she apologized, giving her a pat. "You stay here and relax." She rummaged in her saddlebags, pulling out some cloth. "I think we’ll ditch the armor for a few days, Argo.. no sense in startling the locals more than I need to."

Not long after, she slipped out the barn door, and headed towards the distant tree line at a purposeful jog, carrying a longbow and quiver. Nice morning. she reflected, drawing close to the start of the forest. Let’s see what we can find, hmm? She paused, taking in the cool breeze, catching a faint hint of a familiar smell on it. Well, that would certainly be an addition to the inn stocks.

She moved deeper into the trees, feeling the dew form on her skin, and the wet morning air drench the dark green linen tunic she was wearing. The scent got marginally stronger, and she changed direction slightly, ducking under fallen branches, and carefully avoiding the slick leaf litter where an unwary hunter could slip. At last, her ears confirmed the scent, picking up the unmistakable sound of an animal patiently chewing the rough forest foliage. Ahh...her movements slowed, and she crept forward a pace at a time until she could part the last set of feathery fronds, and see her quarry.

Handsome. A buck, every inch of five feet at the shoulder. Even field butchered, this was going to be stretch to carry, she reminded herself, then grinned. Well, I said I could use the exercise. I think this was a little more than I’d planned, but...the buck was unaware of being hunted, and continued to crop the grass as she settled the fletching of one long shaft onto the bowstring. Pausing for a moment to settle herself, she raised the longbow, and leveled the point at the animal’s jugular. Slowly, she drew her right arm back, smoothly bringing the shaft with it, until she was at full extension, and held, rechecking her aim. Without even a whisper of sound from the release, the arrow found it’s mark, taking the buck in mid chew, and dropping him to his knees in a spurting explosion of blood.

Hmm. Not bad, considering how long it’s been since I hunted longbow. She mused, a touch surprised. It’s usually shortbow, and rabbits, Or tossing the odd fish at Gabrielle. A smile flickered briefly at the thought, then she moved into the clearing, and dropped to one knee at the side of the gasping deer. One touch, and a sudden wrench ended its agony, and Xena set to work making the kill ready to be carried back. She bled the animal, and removed its organs, tossing them to the assembling scavengers, then removed the head, and tied the legs together.

I think I may have bitten off more than I can chew, this time. The warrior mused, measuring the load skeptically. Oh well. Sooner started, sooner finished. She cleaned her knife, and tied the bow across the carcass to keep it out of the way. Then she took a deep breath, and, grabbing the tied legs, hoisted the bulk to her shoulders, settling it as comfortably as possible. Oh boy. her mind mocked her. I’m about to regret all those long evenings lounging around the fire when I should have been getting drills in. Oh yeah. Get going, Xena, before you drop this thing.

Sometimes, she mused, almost to the village. I’m not sure if I’m really this strong, or just too stubborn to admit I can’t do something. Stopping a minute to catch her breath, she resettled her burden, dismissing the burning ache in her shoulders and focusing grimly on the early daylight washed roof of the inn, where a curl of smoke was wafting up out of the fireplace vent. Not much further, she grinned to herself, approaching the door, and hearing the murmur of voices within.

"Last night might have saved us, Johan" Cyrene stated, shaking her head in bemusement. "At least for a little while. Now, if I can only get some fresh supplies, we can maybe turn this around a little bit." Sighing, she peered at the empty cupboards. "I guess I’d better go shopping. Maybe I’ll get some salt meat. You can do those sandwiches again."

"This would probably be better." Came a low, amused voice from the doorway, surprising them both. "Watch out." Xena warned, as she smoothly swung her burden off her shoulders, and laid it down on the long low table at the back of the kitchen.

"Xena!" Cyrene gasped in shock. She reached out a hand in disbelief and touched the skin of the carcass. "What... how......"

The taller woman just patted the bundle, and grinned. "You won’t take money." she shrugged. "I went out and found something else you would take." Brushing off her tunic, she turned and headed for the door, not waiting for Cyrene’s reply. As the door closed behind her, she leaned against the wall for a moment, working a painful kink out of her back. Whoa. I’m glad I don’t have to do that every day. A wry grin crossed her face. The expression on Cyrene’s face had been worth every minute of it.

"Hey!" Toris called, as he stepped around the corner and spotted her. "What are you doing up so early?" He fell into step with her as she started walking towards the spring head, above the village.

"I was out getting breakfast." Xena answered, casually. "And I’m always up this early." She glanced at him. "Going for a swim. You interested?"

Toris gave her a sideways glance. "Brrr… Not this early, thanks." He fingered the sleeve of her tunic. "Blood?"

"Breakfast." the warrior answered, jerking her head back towards the kitchen.

"Oh. You got a couple of rabbits?" Her brother patted her on the shoulder. "That’ll be nice."

"Yeah," Xena answered, a glint in her eye that Gabrielle would have recognized instantly. "Really weird looking ones, too. I’ve never seen anything like it."

"Well," Toris cleared his throat. "I’d better check it out. I know all the types around here. I’ll tell you what kind they are." He turned on his heel, and headed back towards the inn door.

Xena chuckled to herself, and headed up to the spring.

"Cyrene." Jahon asked, in awe. "Tell me, truthfully. What on earth did you feed her when she was a child?" He walked around the deer carcass, and moved one hoof, shaking his head.

Cyrene folded her arms across her chest. "Well, she did drink a lot of milk." she mused, laughing a little. "But other than that... would you look at the size of this thing? We’ll have meat for two weeks." She ducked her head and smiled. "Brat. Did you see the twinkle in her eyes?."

Jahon gave her an indulgent look. "Just like her mother’s when she’s gotten one over on someone." He teased, ducking the light slap. "She’s not at all what I expected, Cyrene."

"No." the innkeeper said, her face thoughtful. "She never is."

Amazon Village - Council Chamber

"I’m sorry." Gabrielle repeated, politely. "Explain to me again why attacking the Centaurs will help us gain stability in the region? I didn’t quite get that part." The bard folded her hands on the table, and cocked her pale head in sincere interest. At her side, Ephiny was maintaining a solemn expression, now and then taking a few notes on the scroll in front her . Now, she looked up, and traded a quirked eyebrow with Solari, who was seated midway back in the chamber. Solari yawned in answer, and silently moved out of the room, and headed for the dining hall.

"I said." Arella enunciated clearly, a touch of annoyance tingeing her voice. "As long as we have a disputed border, there’s no way we can safely extend the hunting lands to the north." She gave the queen a frustrated look. Was the woman that dense?

"Ah." Gabrielle acknowledged. "I see. Well, you know, I think I’d like to try sending a negotiation team to the Centaurs first. Making a common border agreement with them seems to be a lot less trouble to me than going out and fighting them. Don’t you think?" She smiled at Arella, meeting the tall redhead’s direct stare with one of her own. After a long moment, she turned to Ephiny. "Do you have someone to lead a party over there?"

"Mmm" Ephiny considered, pursing her lips. "Yes. I do." She jerked her chin at Granella, who was leaning against the far wall support. "Assemble a small group, six or seven, to leave tomorrow dawn." The slim Amazon nodded in understanding, and slid out of the room. "All right, that’s all the issues on the table this morning." Ephiny leaned back and stretched a kink out of her neck. It as going well, better than she had expected, actually, even with Arella’s consistent opposition. She looked up as Solari reentered, moving gracefully up to the council table and setting a pitcher of cold tea on the table along with brace of glasses. Ephiny smiled at her. "Thanks." she muttered, selecting a glass and pouring it half full. "Here." She offered, handing the cup to Gabrielle. "Talking all morning makes me thirsty. I can’t imagine how you feel."

Gabrielle accepted the cup, and sat back in her chair, scanning the room as she sipped the cool drink. The tension in the room was making her shoulders ache, though they were making progress. She ignored Arella’s undisguised disgruntled stare, and glanced out the window instead. The expressions in the room ranged from hopeful, to skeptical, to outright adversarial - but one thing they had in common was their focus on her. Knowing they were, knowing they were all looking to her to solve their problems left the bard feeling very isolated. Even Ephiny, she mused, wouldn’t understand because of course, she was an Amazon. I’m not. And they think I have this magical cure for all their problems. This wasn’t unusual, after all, isn’t that what she and Xena did, all the time? But...she usually wasn’t the focus of attention. It’s scary. I’m not really sure I like it. And suddenly, from the inside, she got a good sense of what Xena went through, almost every day. Gods... how does she do it?

The bard lost herself in thought for a moment, considering. It was true - whenever they walked into a situation, everyone’s hopes, expectations...were dropped on a pair of certainly broad, but very human shoulders. If she closed her eyes, she could see Xena’s expression - that little furrow in her brow, the concentrated look, the subtle squaring of her body and a deep breath, as she took in the circumstances, delved into her knowledge and experience, and tried to come up with an answer. And when the situation’s bad, where’s the first place I look? How much pressure can one person stand up under? Gods... I never realized. How many times have I told her I was counting on her to come up with an answer to a question that had no answers? And...she does. She never puts the responsibility off on anyone else. And even realizing that, and knowing this is my job... and my responsibility, and not hers.. I still...still wish she was here. I wish I could open my eyes, and see her leaning against the doorway, rolling her eyes at the Amazons, and giving me that look.

"Gabrielle" Ephiny’s low voice interrupted her thoughts. She opened her eyes and met the concerned Amazon’s gaze. "Are you all right?" Ephiny continued, putting a gentle hand on her knee. "You have the oddest look on your face."

"No, I’m fine." Gabrielle smiled wryly. "I was just thinking, that’s all." She gave Ephiny a wink. "That’s what you hired me for, right?" She took another sip of tea, and tried to pretend a nonchalance she wasn’t really feeling. "So, what’s next on the agenda?"

Ephiny propped her elbow on the table, and gave the bard a long look. "Well, lunch, actually." she admitted, chuckling. "and the Elder’s Council wants to talk to you right after." she shrugged. "and after that, maybe we can work off some tension with a little sparring?"

Gabrielle nodded amiably. "OK - that sounds great." She stood up, and started around the table, sliding to one side as Arella attempted to close in on her. "Excuse me." she gave Arella a smile. "No hard feelings, right?" Letting her eyes meet Arella’s shadowed gray ones.

"None" Arella answered, drawing the word out. "But I can see you and I could do with some conversation on some issues." She casually crossed her arms over her chest. "Would you have some time, say over dinner, to talk?" Keeping her voice deliberately light, and unthreatening. Come on, little queen. Maybe we can find a common ground. Talk to me.

Gabrielle’s mind raced, though she maintained a politely thoughtful expression. Should I? Maybe she can be reasoned with after all...it might be worth a try. "Sure." she answered, letting her smile linger. "That would be nice."

"Tonight, then." Arella responded, and gave her sort of a nod before she turned and left the Council chamber, joined at the door by two of her closer cronies.

Now, Ephiny comes over, and says, That’s not a good idea, Gabrielle. The bard predicted to herself.

"That’s not a good idea." Ephiny said, giving Gabrielle a warning look, surprised at the sudden suppressed grin that fleetingly crossed the queen’s face. "I think you’re playing with fire, here." What was she thinking of? Surely she could see what Arella was up to...

"Ephiny, please relax." Gabrielle answered, with a touch of annoyance. "First off, I can take care of myself. Second, maybe she has some good ideas… how am I supposed to know if I don’t listen to her? Third," And she lowered her voice and put her head closer to Ephiny. "I’m not as naive as you think I am."

Shaking her head, she ushered Ephiny out the door, and towards the dining hall. "Come on. I’m hungry." But she wasn’t, really. Strange...I am, and I’m not, or I am, but...Gods, Gabrielle, just go eat lunch. Which was fairly bland, and tended to cooked grains. It wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t very interesting. Gabrielle plowed through the stuff, though, having little choice. Well, I could just go out to the stream and catch myself a fish, I guess. Yeah, right. Some great impression there.

The Elder’s meeting was interesting, though, and Gabrielle liked the opportunity to talk to some of the retired Amazons, whose memory stretched back before her birth. She liked the elders, and had a feeling they liked her too. She was smiling as she walked out, and spotted Ephiny and Eponin talking near the sparring ground. Oh yeah. Staff practice. Almost forgot. With a casual wave at them, she changed her direction to her quarters, to pick up her staff and drop off her meeting notes. Ephiny crossed the middle ground and joined her at the door.

"Hi." The Amazon greeted her briefly. "Getting your staff?"

"Yeah." Gabrielle replied, putting her notes down, and reaching for the smooth wood, which came to her hand with a familiar feel that always kind of surprised her. I never thought I’d get used to carrying this. I guess you can get used to anything.

"Have you been getting in some practice?" Ephiny asked, giving her an amused look. "Eponin isn’t going to be gentle with you." She glanced at the bard, taking in the look of almost mischief in her mist green eyes. Noticing the added muscle in the arms and shoulders. Oh, I bet she has...too...and she’s got some sparring partner. "Hmm?" she prodded, with a smile.

Gabrielle let a grin form on her lips. "Oh, a little." she assured the Amazon blithely. "You know, here and there. I get to use it for real sometimes." She hefted the staff, and motioned Ephiny to go ahead of her. "Come on - I know Eponin hates to be kept waiting." They walked across the middle ground, towards where Eponin was waiting, leaning casually on her own staff. A few other Amazons were scattered around, but Gabrielle was aware of their interested attention. So... this is a show, huh? She felt a seldom experienced jolt of anticipation start in the pit of her stomach.

Her staff proficiency was something she was acquiring to keep her alive, and to gods... prevent Xena from having to go crazy worrying about her in a scuffle, but she didn’t have the joy in battle that Xena did, and she didn’t even understand where that emotion came from. But she was getting better - Xena said so, and as much as the warrior humored her in a lot of things, in this... this..., Xena wouldn’t lie or exaggerate. Not when her life could depend on it, something Xena took with very deadly seriousness. "Hi, Eponin." she smiled, as they came abreast of the older Amazon. "Thanks for taking the time to do a little practice with me. Just like old times."

Eponin studied her. "I hope you’ve been keeping up your skills, your majesty." she allowed a small smile to cross her face. "Shall we?" she motioned to a clear area, and glanced around to make sure there wasn’t anyone too close.

They faced off, and Eponin wasted no time, but closed in with her, and probed her defenses with several testing thrusts. Which she parried, feeling her body settle into a familiar rhythm as she responded to the attacks with practiced ease. The smack of Eponin’s staff against hers felt...light, she was surprised to notice, and lacked the sting she was used to. Experimentally, she moved forward a little, and threw in a double parry she often used with little effect against Xena.

Eponin’s face was a study in surprise as her staff went flying out of her hands, and Ephiny didn’t bother to disguise her bemused amazement. Whoa! Check that out! Gabrielle waited for Eponin to retrieve her weapon, then, feeling a little irritated at the Amazons surprise at her competence, went on the attack, letting her blows fly with a grim satisfaction. Now Eponin’s face was serious as well, and the Amazon started using far more effort in her strokes, trying in earnest to get through the bard’s defenses and disarm her.

Gabrielle was having none of it. Condescend to me, will you? Act like I’m a clueless child, will you? OK.. take that. Smack. Oh, and Xena taught me this, too. Smack. The Amazon’s face grew angry. Whoops, that must have stung. Gabrielle grinned. Eponin’s efforts doubled, and her breathing grew a touch strained. She grimly drove for Gabrielle’s body, slamming the staff against the bard’s with stunning power. But Gabrielle found her blocks holding, her muscles used to turning back a far stronger effort, and she thrust the Amazon back, knocking her off balance and leaving her open to a backhanded sweep, one of her favorite moves. Eponin’s staff went flying again, and this time, Gabrielle curled an arm around her own weapon, and leaned against it, with a smug feeling of satisfaction. In her peripheral vision, she saw several dozen watching Amazons, ringed loosely around them. Good. Let them take me seriously. I’m no warrior, but I’m sure not the clumsy kid I was the last time I stood on this practice ground.

"My compliments, your majesty." Eponin said, stiffly, still breathing hard. "It seems you have been practicing, indeed."

Gabrielle shrugged nonchalantly. "Thanks. I do get to use it a lot, you know. We run into trouble...all the time." She shrugged. "And I have a pretty good sparring partner." As she said this, an irrepressible grin crept onto her face. "Even if she only goes half speed, and I end up getting dumped on my rear most of the time."

Eponin nodded. "I should have remembered. But I didn’t think Xena would waste her time with a staff." Her eyes flicked to Ephiny, who shrugged.

Gabrielle cocked her head in puzzlement. "You have some really strange ideas about her, you know that? She’s just a person... she’s funny, and warm, and...a good teacher.." she paused, and smiled. "and a good friend." she finished quietly. "And she uses anything she can get her hands on as a weapon. Believe me." She chuckled, then swung her staff down to her side. "Should we finish?"

Ephiny took a turn at her, then Solari, and finally Granella, who grinned as she asked Gabrielle to show her the backhanded sweep. The Amazons now treated her just a little differently, which Gabrielle found kind of funny. They bring me here because I’m a peacemaker. And they don’t respect me until I can beat them up. Something’s not right here. But she enjoyed herself, and it was a relief to work off some of the tension that had been building in her all day. She stretched as she and Ephiny walked back towards her quarters side by side. "Wow...that took the kinks out." she said, half laughing, to the Amazon.

Ephiny gave her a glance. "You can say that again." She bumped the bard lightly with an elbow. "You certainly had fun with us." she laughed a little. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d gotten that good? I feel like an idiot."

"Well.." Gabrielle hesitated, then spread her hands out. "It’s kind of hard to judge, Ephiny... you forget who I have to measure myself against." She felt that grin that sort of just came out of her when she thought about Xena appear. I can’t help doing that, lately.

Ephiny ducked her head in acknowledgment. "OK.. good point." she admitted. Wondering if Gabrielle knew just how her face lit up when she was talking about her warrior partner. "She’s done quite a job with you." More than you know, more than with that staff, my bardic friend.

"Time to wash up and get ready for dinner." the bard mused. "I know... I know... I’ll be careful." She gave Ephiny a look. "Wish me luck."

Ephiny sighed. "All right. But I’m going to have someone outside, not far away. By the gods, Gabrielle, you yell if you need something." She touched Gabrielle’s arm in farewell, and changed direction towards her own quarters.

Gabrielle shook her head, and continued into the hut, carefully putting the staff in a secure place near her desk, and skinning out of her leathers. She grabbed a linen wrap, and went to the wash area, which was fairly empty at this time of the afternoon. The late sunlight dropped lazily through the lattice windows, and dusted distorted squares of light on the mat covered floor, as Gabrielle claimed a tub, and filled it with water heated in the ever present fireplace. The bathing room backed onto the smithy forge, an economical use of heat, she’d always thought. With a groan, she settled into the water, wincing at a strained muscle in her shoulder.

Gods, that’s painful. A plaintive thought. if.. Xena were here, I could beg for a rubdown. She just knows exactly where it hurts. And she’s got the nicest, warmest hands...she sighed. Gabrielle, just don’t go there. You chose to do this, so just get used to it.Moodily, she finished washing up, and drained the tub, wrapping the linen around her and trudging back to her quarters. What in Hades is wrong with me? Here I am, taking charge of an entire nation of people, and when I should be thinking about what to do to solve their problems, I end up thinking about...she stopped in front of the desk, and picked up the piece of amber resting there. And smiled, and let her shoulders drop in amused defeat. I end up thinking about being in love. Because I am. And it’s like...standing under a waterfall, on a sunny spring morning it feels so good…For a moment, she let that thought run, hugging the linen wrap to her, and feeling an incredulous grin stretch her face from ear to ear. Then she laughed, and got dressed, and was composed and ready when the knock came at her doorpost, and Arella was there.

"Are you telling me, " Arella later said, pouring her a second cup of wine, after dinner was complete. "that there’s always a peaceful solution to any problem?"

Gabrielle shrugged. "I’d like to say yes, but...I’ve traveled with Xena for two years.." She cast a glance at her guest, and didn’t touch the wine glass. Oh no... learned my lesson there, thanks. One’s my limit. "Sometimes, you don’t have a choice. But I’d like to think we can work on situations so that we always do have a choice. " Her voice was calm and reasonable.

"But you agree that sometimes violence is unavoidable." Arella pursued, leaning across the small table. Knowing by now that Gabrielle would not back off from her.

"Unavoidable, yes. Desirable, no." the bard answered, leaning on one elbow, and regarding Arella.

"Desirable." Arella repeated, letting her eyes wander over her dinner partner. "That depends." Her gray eyes traced the exposed collarbone of the woman facing her, and stopped on the necklace winking in the candlelight. "That’s beautiful." she murmured, reaching over and laying a fingertip on the sea green stone.

Gabrielle managed not to twitch at the touch, and kept her voice level and unconcerned. "Thanks."

Arella tilted her russet head, and regarded the eyes across from her. "Good match for your eyes, your majesty." She raised an eyebrow. "That must have been a tough find. It’s an unusual color."

The bard felt her heart begin to pound in alarm. This was more aggression than she’d counted on... should she yell for the guard? How dumb would that sound. A thought occurred to her, which made her lips twitch in a reluctant grin. "That’s what people tell me." She answered, giving Arella a mild look. "But Xena managed somehow. She surprised me with it not long ago." She let her gaze drop to the table, and laughed a little. A glance back up at Arella, whose expression was now a good deal more reserved. OK, Xena. I owe your reputation one. We’ll settle up later. "But I think we should approach violence as a second option, especially with the centaurs. They’re neighbors - doesn’t it seem better to you if we can make peace with them?"

Arella leaned back against her chair, and cupped her chin in her hand. "I don’t know, Gabrielle." Yes I do, but you can’t hear me. "We have such a long history of fighting with them. How could they trust us?" She shrugged. "We’re too different to be allies."

Gabrielle surprised her by laughing. "Oh, that’s not true at all. You’d be surprised at how much we all have in common, when you get right down to it. We just left a city where the residents found some new allies in a race of half men, half lions that lived nearby." She enjoyed the look of disbelief on the Amazon’s face. "It’s true.. I was there... I saw it. I know them." She stood, and stretched, wincing as she stressed her shoulder. "So, anything is possible. But we’re not going to decide this tonight. Though, " the bard stared at Arella, seriously. "I do appreciate your viewpoint."

Arella also stood, and nodded quietly. "We’ll have to discuss this further." she said, softly, capturing Gabrielle’s eyes with her own. And finding unexpected compassion there. "Good night." she finished, and turned to leave. Gabrielle walked around the table and escorted her to the door, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder as they reached the threshold. Feeling the slight flinch at the contact. "Thanks for joining me for dinner." She said, cheerfully. "Have a good night."

The tall Amazon paused, and glanced down at her, a thoughtful expression on her shadowed face. "You too, Gabrielle." And smiled. And brushed by her to clear the door, making the most of the contact.

Sighing, the bard crossed back over to her desk, and pulled out her diary, spending several minutes writing with absorption. So, I had a visit from the Enemy tonight, Xena. She thinks the only way to do things is with violence. We don’t know anything about that, right? Right. She’s...really intense. And I think she wants something from me... something I know I can’t give her. I’m not sure what to do about that - I tried to take your advice and warn her off - but I don’t think she cares. That’s scary. We’ll have to see what happens. Hey - you’d have been proud of me today - I got to beat up some Amazons at staff practice. Wish you could have seen it. Yeah, I do wish that. It’s silly, I know. I’ve only been here two days. But a tiny part of me is always wondering what you’re doing, and where you are, and I find myself missing just having you around. I hope you’re doing OK, and not getting into too much trouble.

Finally, she finished, and closed the diary, and changed into her now favorite shirt, and climbed into bed. And stared at the wooden beams holding up the ceiling. And thought about what Xena could be doing, three days away from here, under the same stars, hearing the same fitful wind outside. She chuckled a little. Sleeping, probably, was what she was doing. With a shake of her head, Gabrielle joined her.

Amphipolis - several days later...

"You’ve really made a difference." Toris’ voice was lowered, and directed for her ears only. "It’s turned around for us, Xena. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t shown up."

Xena sat back against the wall, taking a deep draft from the cup she held cradled in both hands. "You would have found a way, Toris. Anyway, all I did was bring in a little game and fix some tables." She did survey the room, though, and was surprised by the number of lunch patrons casually strolling in. There were three new tables, now - her handiwork, along with Toris’ contributions of a few chairs. Not bad, for a beat up old ex warlord. She grinned privately, remembering the startled looks on both her mother and brother’s face when she set up a workshop outside the barn though why they thought soldiers were incapable of doing routine chores was a mystery.

"Xena." Toris said, reaching out and touching her arm, pleased when she didn’t flinch.

"Hmm?" the warrior answered, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You know..." he hesitated, then rushed on. "Well, what I mean is, this is your home. You don’t have to... I mean.. you.. well, you belong here, if you want to." He fell silent, and watched her still face for a reaction.

"Did mother send you out here?" his sister countered, but with a smile that took the edge off the comment. "It’s a nice thought, Toris, and don’t think I don’t appreciate it. I do." She glanced at the table, then back up at him. "More than you know. But I can’t risk it." She leaned back and braced one booted leg up on the bench, resting her arm on her knee. "I can’t expose you and mother to what I have to live with."

Cyrene appeared behind them, and slid into a place next to Xena, pushing over a plate she was carrying that contained small cakes. "Here." she said, nodding at the plate, and giving Xena a sly glance. "I know you like them." Blithely ignoring the look of amused exasperation from her daughter. She had been using little tricks like this to poke and prod at Xena’s well developed emotional armor for days now, and it was beginning to have an effect. The warrior had visibly relaxed in their presence, and was starting to show flashes of a wry humor and lively wit that Cyrene had long suspected lurked under all that brass and leather. "Come on, come on."

Xena chuckled, and shook her head. "Mother, you’re dangerous."

"Yes, well, you had to get it from somewhere, dear." Cyrene answered, patting her arm, pleased when both siblings started laughing. It’s been a long time. Her mind mused, as she glanced from one child to the other. Xena had traded her armor for a dark blue rough hewn linen tunic, and weaponless, almost allowed Cyrene to forget what she was and seated next to her brother, both playfully pushing at each other and fighting over the cakes, she had an illusion of time rolling back. A bittersweet feeling, which faded as she quietly gave thanks to the gods that she had, at least, this moment in time to reunite part of her badly sundered family.

"Xena, stop that!" Toris gasped, ducking as his grinning sister managed to get a handful of crumbs down his shirt. "Augh!" he shivered, untucking the shirt from his trousers and scattering the cake bits on the floor. The puppy Ares immediately growled, and sniffed the offering, poking out a tiny tongue and scooping a bit up, chewing enthusiastically.

"Now, children." Cyrene laughed, reveling in the sound of that. Both of them turned to her, and her heart almost stopped at the sight of the two similar faces, with a pair of mischievous smiles, and identical blue eyes that looked back at her. "If you don’t stop that, no dessert for you tonight." She threatened. Gods, I wish this could last. I know it can’t. But...

"Now, there’s a threat." Xena drawled, leaning back and dusting her hands off. She picked up her cup and took a long swallow, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. That offer of Toris’ - took me off guard. She let her gaze travel over the inside of the inn, drifting over her brother’s face, and resting at last on Cyrene’s. There’s a part of me that wants this so bad... I thought I’d never sit at this table, listen to their voices, feel my mother’s touch...again.. once. I threw closed the door to this place.. thought I had it locked pretty tight until Gabrielle showed up. Against her will, a smile forced its way onto her lips. And damned if she didn’t walk through all the locked doors as though they weren’t even there. How did I let that happen? Now, I have a chance to go home. Reality settled on her shoulders. And I can’t.

"Xena." Cyrene touched her arm.

"Yeah?" she replied, tilting her dark head to regard her mother.

Cyrene steepled her fingertips, putting them in front of her lips. "I... don’t know what your plans are." She hesitated. "But I want you to know that I really like having you here." Her eyes met the blue ones in a motionless face across from her. "And I hope you’ll consider giving us a chance to spend some time with you."

The warrior broke her gaze, and let her chin drop to rest on her linked hands. "Look." she said, finally. "I.. the thought of getting chance to become part of this family, again...is something I never thought I’d have the opportunity to do." She studied her hands. "And.. it’s something that’s very appealing to me." She glanced up at them, their eyes riveted on her face. "But I can’t take the risk of doing that. " A shrug. "There are a lot of people out there who would love the chance to do me, or the people I care about harm."

"But Xena.." Toris objected "We’re still going to be your family. That can’t change, whether you’re here or not."

"Not quite, Toris." his sister answered quietly. "With me gone, you might get the odd opportunist who happened to hear we’re related. With me here.." She let out a slight sarcastic laugh. "It would be open season for every warlord with a grudge and every budding fighter out to make a name for themselves to visit. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. " She sighed. "However, I do need to stick around for at least a while, until I’m sure the Amazons are settled down."

Cyrene leaned forward at that, interested. "Why? Don’t you think your friend is capable of handling them?" She actually liked Gabrielle, and suspected the bard had been a very good influence on her wild progeny. In fact, she had a motherly instinct telling her that her daughters feelings for Gabrielle went quite a bit deeper than she had been willing to admit. Yet.

"Gabrielle is just fine." Xena answered, tersely. "But there are certain members of the Amazon nation that don’t agree with a peaceful course of action. And there’s a possibility that one or more of them just might challenge for the leadership." She paused, considering. "That’s a challenge to the death." She added, watching the horror cross their faces.

"So...Gabrielle has to fight someone to the death?" Toris asked, eyes wide. "That’s crazy. She’s a talker, not a fighter."

Xena smiled. "Well, actually, she’s a little of both. But no, she doesn’t have to do it. The queen can name a champion to fight the challenge for her."

Cyrene felt understanding dawn. She caught her daughter’s gaze and smiled. "And you’re her champion." It was not a question. She watched a faint blush travel up Xena’s neck, and chuckled to herself.

"Yes." Was all the warrior answered. Among other things. Her mind teasingly inserted. She saw that look in her mother’s eyes, and was caught between chagrin and exasperation. She’s hard to keep things from. Well...so am I. I guess I come by it honestly. She let a smile play around her lips as she returned her mother’s gaze, giving her a little shrug, and a nod. Cyrene’s eyes widened, and she returned the smile, comprehension apparent. The woman was about to speak when a noise startled all of them, and turned their attention to the door.

Toris cursed, as three half armored men strolled into the room, glancing around. "I’ll take care of this." he muttered grimly, sliding out of his chair, and heading towards them.

"Bregaris’ men." Cyrene uttered in a low tone. "the southern warlord. Probably here for tribute." She glanced at Xena, and blinked. Her daughter’s face had settled into a chill steadiness, eyes pinned on the three soldiers.

Idiots Xena mused, feeling her instincts begin to sharpen, and the blood start to pump in her veins as the first two men cornered her brother, as the third, a massive silent hulk stood watch. She slid her knee down so both feet were squarely on the floor, and let her hand curl around the edge of the table, clearing the bench out of her way with silent efficiency. She spared a quick glance at Cyrene, who was watching her with undisguised fascination, and gave her a wry quirk of her lips.

Soldier one now had Toris by the front of the tunic, and had half lifted him onto the serving bar. OK.. that’s enough. Xena thought grimly to herself, as she rose to her feet and started across the tavern.

Cyrene sat back and watched, as Xena moved forward, controlled power in every movement, hands flexing a little as she approached the soldiers and Toris. Against her will, she felt a flicker of pride stir in her heart, not for the violence she suspected was fast approaching, but for her daughter’s willingness to risk herself in someone else’s defense.

Toris was starting to have trouble breathing, when he saw a tanned hand descend on his tormentor’s shoulder. The man looked up, annoyed, and jerked a little when his eyes found a slightly shorter, female version of the man he had in his grasp at his elbow.

"Hi." Xena drawled, low and deep in her throat. "I think you’d better let go of my brother." She let a smile part her lips. And summoned up the edgy menace she could project when she needed to. "Now."

The man dropped Toris, and turned to face her. "Really? Would you like to take his place?" His face was ugly, a scar crossing it from ear to cheekbone and a scraggly beard struggling to cover it.

"Sure." Xena answered, and brought her fist up in a sudden explosion of power, catching him under his jaw, lifting him off his feet, and dropping him like a rock in front of her. Taking out the second one with a short vicious elbow thrust. Catching the massive third one as he rushed her against a booted foot, watching his bewildered face as she flexed her thigh muscles and sent him crashing back against the door. He tried to get up, and she put him to sleep with a kick, then turned and straightened Toris’ tunic, brushing him off with amused toleration. "Better now?" she asked, flicking a last bit of debris of his shoulder.

"You are...amazing." Toris laughed in relief. He shook his head at the three prone men. " They’re not going to be happy when they wake up."

Xena shrugged. "No, but we can send them back with a message. I know Bregaris. He’s a coward, and once he’s challenged, he’ll back off and find easier pickings." She headed back to the table, where Cyrene was still waiting. Sliding back into her chair, she picked up one of the remaining cakes, and bit into it, darting a glance at her mother. Oh...hey… I do like these...her mind chuckled at her. And Gabrielle would love them. She grinned. "So. Enjoy the show?"

Cyrene cleared her throat. "I always like watching an expert at work." she said dryly. "You certainly don’t waste any time. " Pretending she didn’t see Xena snag another cake. "Speaking of which, do you mind if I ask you where you go at night?"

Xena raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. "Into the forest. There’s a clearing there, big enough for me to do sword drills without scaring the neighbors." she answered, giving Cyrene a wry smile. "That takes a lot of practice to keep up. " She gave her mother a sly grin. "Besides, I have to do something to work off all these cakes. " And get rid of the excess energy. And get myself so exhausted I don’t lay in bed and...think.

Cyrene nodded slightly. "That’s what I thought. I saw you coming back in this morning, and you were carrying your sword." And looking pretty tired, but we won’t mention that. "You shouldn’t work yourself so hard." Studying the taller form seated next to her. Feeling a strong motherly pull of affection that she hadn’t felt towards this woman for a very long time. "Well, I have to go see if dinner’s started." She sighed, standing and moving around Xena towards the kitchen. As she pressed past, she put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, and leaning forward, brushed her lips across the top of her dark head. Continuing on without comment, aware of the blue eyes which followed her until she was out of sight behind the kitchen door.

Xena wandered outside after instructing Toris and some burly buddies of his how to tie the soldiers onto their horses. She wrote a little note, and signed it, for them to pin on the little group’s erstwhile leader, then left them to it. A low growl caught her attention, and she looked down to where the wolf puppy was following her determinedly, teeth worrying her boot. Gods. She sighed, reaching down and picking up the animal. Little Ares transferred his teething attention to her finger, and let out another heartfelt growl. "You’re very scary." Xena informed the puppy. "Aroo." the puppy responded, blinking it’s yellow eyes at her. "Yeah." Xena answered, glancing quickly around to see if anyone was watching. "Come on. It’s nap time for you." She carried the animal with her into the barn, and reached up, settling him into the hayloft, where he snuggled down immediately. After a moment’s hesitation, she climbed up, flipping over the dark form, and relaxing on her back, hands folded behind her head. Ares took the opportunity to scramble over to her, nuzzling happily against her side.

"Ares, cut that out." she sighed, rolling her eyes. The puppy meeped at her. "Oh, all right." she relented, lifting him up and settling him onto her ribcage, where he curled up happily, blinking sleepy eyes at her in adoration. She laughed gently, then turned her gaze to the woodwork. Recalling the sensation of her mother’s hands on her shoulders, and that casual kiss that she hadn’t felt since she was very small. Maybe it was possible...her mind turned that idea over. Maybe.

Her thoughts moved onto Gabrielle, and the increasingly hollow spot she could feel inside her that missed the bard’s presence. Missed? How about needed.. She closed her eyes and thought about that for a minute. And just when did that happen? Well, I can pretend it’s not true. That was the echo she was trying to beat out with the clash of metal every night, the pull that clenched her heart in her chest at unexpected intervals. And it was getting worse. I guess we’ve just gotten used to having each other around. Two years is too long a time to spend with one person, day and night, and not develop… what, a dependency on them? Is that what this is? Maybe.

She took a deep breath and let it out. If Gabrielle was destined to remain with the Amazons, maybe she would give a stab at staying here. Become the village’s protector, like it should have been all along. Rejoin her family. I could do it… not be out there fighting everyone all the time. Maybe pay the Amazons a visit once in a while. Yeah.

Blinking, she watched the deep scratches in the wood above her head blur and clear. "Lyceus, I’m sorry." She whispered, reaching up and touching his name. "I could have brought you back, you know. " She bit her lip. "But the price was something I couldn’t pay... and I don’t think you would have wanted to be bought for that, either." She sighed, and lowered her hand to stroke Ares, who tangled one front leg in her fingers and held on. Then lulled by the warm sunlight, and the sleeping puppy, Xena let her eyes drift shut. Just for a few minutes, her mind assured her.

When she opened her eyes, a quick glance at the window told her it had been a lot more than a few minutes. Startled, she shook her head to clear it, then allowed her body to relax again when she realized where she was, and what had happened. Gods.. when was the last time I let myself do that… Ares opened his eyes at her movement, and sighed, nuzzling her sleepily.

Well... a mental chuckle. I did get pretty enthusiastic about working on backflips last night. Doing that till dawn was probably not the smartest thing going. Did nail that new one, though. Yawning, she stretched her long frame, flexing muscles still a bit tight from the previous evenings workout. The puppy stretched too, yawning in imitation, and extending his front and back paws in a puppy sized version of her motion. Caught by surprise, Xena laughed, then pulled herself upright, tumbling the puppy onto the straw in front of her bedroll.

"Come on, time to cut firewood, Ares." she commented, grasping the side of the loft, and lowering herself down to the ground, then grabbing puppy and hand ax in one hand, she ran her fingers through her disordered hair with the other, and headed for the door, almost colliding with Cyrene. "Hey." She said, stopping short.

Cyrene took the puppy from her, scratching his ears fondly. "Wanted to see where you disappeared to." She smiled up at Xena. "You have the village buzzing, you know." She turned and walked by her side to the woodpile, and watched as the warrior lifted up a large log and split it with lazy strokes.

"I do, huh?" Xena answered, chuckling. "Is that good or bad?"

Cyrene pursed her lips, but kept a smile off her face. "Quite good." She glanced at her daughter. "You’re doing great things for business, so I owe you a big thank you."

Xena looked up, pinning her with a serious stare. "You don’t owe me anything." She said, grabbing another log and setting it on the jacks. "About time I did something positive for this place." She let a reluctant smile cross her face. "Besides.. it’s kind of a nice change."

The older woman chuckled. "Honey, you can change your pace here anytime you want." She patted Xena’s shoulder and headed back towards the inn, turning back to put down Ares. "Here, he’s your shadow."

"Yeah." Xena said, glancing at the puppy, who sneezed, and ran over to her. "I’m not really sure why." Ares curled up against her boot, poking out his tongue and panting. "Roo" he commented.

Cyrene grinned at the expression on Xena’s face. "Well, dear… animals are very perceptive. And they always did like you."

Xena rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah." She sighed, and kept chopping.

"Roo." Ares stated, tugging on her boot.

"Not a word out of you." Xena growled, giving him a look.

"Grr." He growled back.

Another full evening in the tavern, Xena mused, wryly. And word had spread about the visit by the warlord’s soldiers.. and how they’d left. She could tell by the sidelong glances in her direction, which had been obvious the first night, but had tapered off after that as the villagers became used to her presence. Two of the merchants had actually come over and talked to her, real progress for them, and one of the village girls had stopped to make conversation on her way from the back table to the serving bar.

Right now, Toris had his head together with a group of his relative peers, planning... something. Xena distrusted Toris’ planning...something. She suspected very strongly that she would be a part of whatever the something was. Sighing, she sat back in her chair, and sipped gingerly at a tall cup of her mother’s potent ale. She had learned her lesson with it the first night, when only a constitution as solid as a rock prevented her from falling down drunk in front of everyone. Who wouldn’t have noticed, really, because they were falling down themselves. She smirked. And made a note to warn Gabrielle off the stuff, since it was frothy and sweet, and the bard would probably love it. A wistful smile crossed her face.

"Hey, Toris." Beltran whispered. "Are you sure? I mean, she’s not going to get upset, is she?" He peered nervously at his friend’s intimidating sister.

"Nah." Toris said, shaking his head. "She’s in a good mood."

Tellar raised his eyebrow. "How can you tell?"

"Idiot." Toris replied, slapping him. "I’m her brother."

"Look.. why can’t you just teach us?" Beltran hissed, poking him. "You said you used to be a warrior."

Toris rolled his eyes. "Don’t be a moron. Yeah, I could hold a sword. Yeah, I could punch someone. Yeah, I can ride a horse. That doesn’t make me a warrior. She’s the best there is. Who would you rather learn from? "

Both of them looked at him. "Don’t answer that." Toris groaned. "Look, stop being such cowards. She’s just a person. Look at her."

They turned and glanced over toward the back of the room. Then they turned back around and looked at Toris, who sighed. "Come on." They crossed the room, heading for the back table where Xena was seated, watching them approach. Toris pulled up a chair and motioned for his pals to do the same. "Hi."

Xena looked them up and down, before letting a grin slowly form on her face. "Hi." Her gaze flicked to Toris. "What’s up?"

They told her.

"Wait. Stop." Xena held up both hands. "This is how this all started. No. Sorry, but no." She scowled at Toris. "You know better than to ask me to teach people in this village how to use weapons."

Toris blew out a breath. Gods... she’s stubborn. Just like mother. "Not weapons, not really. Just for defense, Xena. Come on, you taught Gabrielle how, you can teach these guys." He grabbed her arm. "Look... you said it yourself - these warlords respond to intimidation. If we can even make it just a little harder for them to ride in here and take anything they want, maybe it’s worth it."

His sister leveled a look at him that made him release her arm and lean back. She remained silent for a long time, glancing at each of them in turn, then crossed her arms over her chest and let out a long sigh. Should I do this? Is it even worth trying? Maybe...because I’ve been here long enough to attract attention, and that’s not good. Do I owe it to them? Yeah, maybe I do, after all I’ve put this place through.

"All right." she finally said. "Staff and hand to hand only." She stared at Toris. "No bladed weapons. And you have to get them staves. I’m not going scouring the countryside for them."

They looked at each other in surprise. Didn’t expect me to say yes, huh? The warrior grinned to herself. "Every day, between lunch and dinner. No whining."

Toris nodded. "Deal." he said, succinctly. The rest of them just nodded.

The next day there was a ring of them out there, nervous but determined. She started slowly, showing them the basic moves, and had them practice them the rest of the afternoon, wincing when they accidentally hit each other. Well… they’ll learn. She mused, thoughtfully.

And they did, and kept coming back every day for a few hours after their field work was done, and eventually she had to set up a real training area. Now, as they got used to handling the heavy staves, it became more interesting for Xena, because she got to serve as a training pell for their fledgling attempts at attack. More than once, she desperately wished for Gabrielle’s competence facing her.. but it was a way to keep busy, and the villagers were getting better, being naturally strong and used to hard work.

After two weeks, they were… actually OK. To her bemused surprise. Not experts, no… not anywhere even in the bard’s league. But they could hold their own, and were eager to learn more.. though the thought of doing hand to hand with her was still spooking them. She finally had to coax Toris into being the first victim, and what a show that had been. She had used him as a bad example over and over, until he got upset, and when he was upset, he did stupid things.

And one of the stupid things he did was try to grab her in an inappropriate spot, which he figured would knock her off her stride enough for him to get an advantage. All he got for his efforts was a grin, and a "Boys have bigger targets, Toris" before she responded in kind.

Cyrene, peeking through the shuttered windows at the action, turned to Johan. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man make a noise like that before."

Johan cringed in reflex. "I think you better go and keep your children from killing each other."

Cyrene peeked out again. "Oh… well, I’m sure Xena won’t hurt him. Much." She flinched as they went at each other, hitting the ground with an audible thump. "I hope."

And she hadn’t, Xena mused, as she relaxed much later that night in a hot bath. Much. But the session had gone smoothly after that, and the villagers seemed less intimidated by her. Some of them were even starting to practice little moves out in the fields during breaks… she shook her head in mild amusement. She allowed the hot water to relax her, stretching out and laying her head back against the wall of the tub. Gabrielle liked hot baths, she reflected. Especially when they would splash around with each other, like kids. I miss that. She grinned wryly. I’m always a lot more playful around her than anyone else. A lot less serious. Huh.

The next day brought an unexpected test, when a group of Bregaris’s men, a hunting party, rode in looking for trouble. They got it, and more than they expected, when the previously meek villagers stood in their way, armed with stout staves, and no nonsense expressions. It hadn't taken long, and Xena herself merely watched from the inn window, though kept weapons to hand just in case. That night, they celebrated, and more than one toast was given to Xena, much to her discomfiture, but she coped, because they were proud of themselves, and in truth, she was pretty proud of them too.

[nappyfreesince2003-blog]

Shame Writing

The hazy, warm joy of summer had descended on her like a slow, healthy sleep. Her body was wrapped in a hot coat of silky sweat. Her skirt was laid out in a sprawl in the middle of the long grass. A field mouse scuttled up to her. It sniffed at her soft hair spread over the flattened silage uneasily and scurried away unnoticed. Her mind had drifted hours ago, and the sun was beating down.

“Sash?”

He knelt down next to her and placed his hand next to her burning cheek

“Sash?” he called again, shaking her shoulder.

“…hhmmm…” came her warm, honeyed response

“Sash wake up, it’s me, Tom.” He cupped her blond curly head in his hands, stroking the hair off her face

“No,” she murmured, “Absolutely not.”

“Sash it’s four o’clock.” He persuaded with scarcely concealed amusement.

Sasha opened her eyes, instantly blinding herself and closing them again with an irritated groan. She turned around, burying her face in the cool grass.

Tom let his eyes wonder over her shape. Her dress was a gentle, faded yellow and fitted her perfectly.

“You should get inside, it’s dangerous to stay out.” He said absentmindedly.

She spread her fingers through the grass blades and groaned loudly

He sighed, “Sash…” he said in complaint.

Her body relaxed limply into the grassy bed. And a certain sense of unconsciousness fell over her. He pulled on her shoulder and turned her over with ease. Her eyes were closed with no movement behind them and her lips were parted to the skies. Riddled with concern, his brow creased. Something was wrong.

He brought his face close to hers and caressed her cheek with his thumb, “Sash.” He said firmly.

She gave no response.

He clicked his fingers by her ear and lifted her eye lid up to reveal the whites of her eyes. She was gone. He strongly suspected sunstroke.

“Shit.” He muttered

He slipped his hands around her small waist and along her spine. Supporting her head, he lifted her towards him, nearly toppling himself over

“Oh…” came a sigh from her pretty lips.

“Sash? You with me?” He asked with urgency

“mmmhh” came the deeply satisfied response, “you came early…”

“No,” He stood up, pulling them both to their feet, “You’re very late.”

Her hand drifted over his chest and back, bringing her face to rest against his neck, “You will forgive me, won’t you?”

He smiled at her dozy face, “Not on my life.”

“Oh dear,” her hand felt for his face and her lips pressed against his skin, “Oh well.”

At first all he felt was a gentle pressure then the wetness revealed itself under her breath. He froze. One hand on her back the other around her waist. Was she…? The pressure faded. He waited in an icy stance, rigid with confusion.

The pressure returned. This time with a circular movement of the lips which was unmistakable. She was. She was kissing him. It was something he had not expected and could not react to. It was important, of course, this moment was very significant. She was, the incredible creature, making herself very vulnerable to him all of a sudden and his actions would be greatly impactful on her.

Sasha's third kiss was with quite some force behind it and she was moving her hand up towards the back of his head, running her fingers through it. She was forcing a conclusion.

“…Sash…” he said quietly, as he felt the pulsing in his trousers increasingly tentatively, “We should go. You’ve got sunstroke.”

Her hand reached his hair and buried its fingers through it. Her nails scrapped the back of his head gently making everything tingle. He was suddenly struck with a feeling that she knew completely what she was doing. He shook the idea out of his mind.

A deeply sonorous moan escaped her in a breathy sigh. She continued to kiss him, now her neck was stretched out and she had her lips and nose buried just under where his jaw met his lower ear. He quite wanted to lower her onto the ground again and hitch up her skirt. He heard himself sighing in pleasure and felt himself pulling her closer. And she was pressing herself onto him.

Another cold thought flashed through his mind like an arrow, sticking with perfect accuracy; she was not in her right mind. Which meant he would be taking advantage. He pulled away before her hip reached his erection.

“Sasha it’s not the right time. You’re not thinking straight. We need to get you home.”

“Oh?” She mumbled as she kissed along his jaw line. He wanted to turn to her and kiss her straight back on the lips.

“Sash, stop.” His less responsible side cursed him deeply for those words

She stopped kissing him with a barely detectable huff and rested her head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering to a close. He was almost surprised it worked, and definitely slightly disappointing.

“I’m taking you home now.” He whispered to her

“Forgive me” She muttered as more and more of her weight fell onto him.

He turned himself around and pulled her up onto his back. He swallowed as his hands felt up her skirt for a supportive grip. Her skin felt wet and silky all over.

The pressure of his hands was causing her to call out softly in desire. Her finger tips wondered across his chest and felt their way under his cotton shirt. Her head flopped over his shoulder and started to kiss his collar bone.

“Are you still lucid?” he asked.

“Tom?” she asked.

“Yes,” he started to make steps through the long grass.

“Will you kiss me back?” her words were slow and slurred like a drunk

“I hope so,” he replied, “If you’ll let me.” The long grass swayed against his legs and pollen circled in the air around his face.

“Will you kiss me now?” her boiling cheek was nestled into his neck, she had stopped kissing him and was pushing her cheek up against his with a rhythmic affection.

He sighed as she pushed his head onto one side, “No, I can’t.”

“I think you can.”

“That’s nice,” he smiled, “thank you.”

“Especially now.” She nestled her head into his shoulder and let her body slump back and knees bend.

He walked on in silence, letting his mind race through all the things he wanted to do to her that he wouldn’t.

A cloud passed over the sun

“Now is the only time I know what I want,” she continued in a delirious slur. “I won’t know when I wake up tomorrow… All the things that people think… But it’s just us in this field. Everything is clear.”

The sun peaked out from behind the cloud.

Sasha moaned deeply in it’s warm caress and wrapped her arms closely around Tom in a cuddle like embrace.

“I want…” she sighed. “I want you to kiss me Tom… To take me back to the place I was.”

Tom looked to the sky for help.

“Lay me down in the sun and kiss me, Tom.” She took a break from speaking to gently pass out of consciousness. She remained that way for forty to sixty minutes, waking briefly to mutter unintelligibly before falling back to sleep.

She stayed heavily on his back for another hour or so. The sun was strong and walking with her on his back wasn’t easy. He focused on getting her home to her parents. He would explain that he found her asleep in the sun and when he woke her up she was quite delirious from sunstroke. There were no lies there. She was acting incredibly strangely.

The summer was one of record heat and many farms were working over time to stave off draught and bad yields. Tom had been called back to his uncle’s farm to lend a hand. He had been studying in London since he left the village and was quite out of practise with manual work. But they needed all the help they could get, and he was building back the muscle at a surprising rate.

Sasha had always lived a couple of fields away from his uncle. They had played together as children, often along with the others from the village, but sometimes alone. Sasha had not changed much in his fourteen-year absence from what he could tell. Except that she’d become incredible beautiful and less confident about it. She had also developed the habit of flirting with the neighbour’s farm-hands when they were on their break. This included Tom. So, he asked her out. And she said yes. That was two days ago.

The heat was baking him through and his load was heavy. He watched the hedges either side of a long dusty track become taller and thicker until he found himself in a little forest. The cool air danced around his sweaty body and the sound of running water called to him through the bird song.

Dark, glossy ivy hung from ambitious tree branches and a thick layer of new green shoots lined the forest floor. The dry crunch of leaves roused his passenger and she hummed gently, cuddling her arms around him.

An old ruined cottage sat a few yards away from the mouth of the little spring, overgrown with nettles and ferns. Tom recognised the place. Once Tom and his cousins, along with Sasha, had traced the river running through the village back to it’s source. They had ended up here. It was, he remembered vividly, an old witch’s house who sprinkled herbs into the water to make people miserable. Like old Mr Ploughman who only ever drank from the river and hated everyone indiscriminately. Tom smiled to himself. He wondered if the old bastard was still alive.

Gently he lowered his sleeping beauty up against a nearby tree trunk and walked towards the stream. He dipped his fingers into it’s icy flow. It felt heavenly. Carefully he cupped the water to his face and gulped it down. It had an irony tang to it. Next, he peeled off his sweat soaked shirt and dipped it into the cool water before twisting it out over his back and under his armpits.

The cooler air and rough tree trunk had woken Sasha’s body, and Tom’s absence had woken her mind. Her eyes fluttered open to the strangely familiar forest, and even more strangely familiar man. She sighed in approval of the sight. She closed her eyes again to fully enjoy the act of breathing.

Tom became aware of the feeling of being watched and turned to her. Something in how she was holding her body told him she was awake. The temptation to splash her with water came over him like a cold fever. He resisted more than he’s had to when she was kissing him and smiled to himself again.

He found his empty flask and filled it. Stepping lightly, he made his way across the hard, dusty ground to her soft leafy seat. He knelt by her and she opened her eyes.

She took the flask and drank from it, wiping the escaping droplets away as she handed it back to him.

“How do you feel?” He asked with a positive note in his voice.

She smiled a warm and content smile. “I feel quite nice.”

The water flushed through her hot body like an icicle and she felt all the heat rise to her head and tangle itself if a dark squirming knot above the base of her skull. She gazed at his naked torso with shameless conviction and perfect desire. The water was dripping off his shoulder and onto her bare leg.

He watched her facial muscles contract and slowly relax as she stared at his body. She’d somehow just gotten even prettier. But he and was going red in the face.

Her eyes wondered to meet his. “I’m making you uncomfortable, aren’t I?” She asked in concern.

“A little, yes.” He pulled the corner of his mouth up as if to say ‘unfortunately’.

“Why?” her look of desire was fading into one of gentle curiosity.

He sighed and sat down on the dry leaves, moving some browned holly leaf from under his buttock. “I’m not sure what to make of you anymore, Sasha.” He fiddled with the leaf between his fingers and watched it intently, “are you like that with other men?”

“Like what?” she tilted her head

“I mean, have you kissed anyone before?” His delivery was blunt and interrogatory

“Yes.” She replied in kind.

“Okay, like that?” He flung his arm into the direction they’d come from.

“You mean on the neck? No.”

He thought about his wording for a second, “Have you ever done more than kissing?”

“Not much more, no.” She smirked a little at her memories, “Have you?” She smiled in amusement as his face began to turn red. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“There’s a lot of girls in London.” He explained

“I’m sure there are.”

“People in the city live very differently. You’d like them, they think more, they ask more questions.” He thought for a better way to explain himself, “People are more open, and women are more forward.”

“As forward as me?” She asked in excited curiosity

“Sometimes.” He admitted, thinking of the way Sasha had pushed herself against him.

She grinned, “I would like to meet them.”

His furrowed his brow, “Promiscuity can make people sad.”

“I’m not promiscuous!” She dejected with offence

He laughed, “I know… It’s just, rushing into things, I mean, can leave you a bit vulnerable or… people use other people to make themselves feel better. They’re not always kind… It’s a complicated world.” He tried to relate his thoughts back to the situations, “I don’t want to use you or be used by you, for entertainment, I mean… or to make ourselves feel more confident or… or any reason that isn’t real.”

“This is a heavy conversation.” She commented with a smile. “What’s a real reason then?”

“I don’t know.” He looked ashamed, “I haven’t found it yet.”

There was a long pause and she looked at his frowning face. She did very much want to kiss him and yet, why? He was not much more handsome than the other boys that had asked her out. And she had liked him before he did so, so much so that she’s dreamed of him. Maybe she was in love with a dream that Tom himself, the real man, could not live up to. She did not want to damage him with an unrealistic expectation.

“I certainly don’t want you to get hurt.” She commented. And it was quite true. She cared very deeply about him and yet felt this drive, unlike any she had felt before, to topple him over and lie on his bare chest. Love was a strong word, but she could feel him backing away from her and it gave her a sharp pang in the belly. But making him feel sad, that was a guilt she could not quite live with.

“That’s a good sign.” He half smiled at her and looked into her eyes.

Yet, she wanted, well, something from him. Not something she had ever really wanted from anyway once they got this close. The field had made things clearer. Her hazy dream mixing with her hazy reality had left her mind open to the possibilities they had together. A big part of this was making him happy, too. But the sizable chunk for to do with satisfying herself. She let the thought sit with her.

“Why did you ask me to the carnival?” She asked as she took note of the placements of his freckles.

“Because…” he searched for his answer, “you make me feel comfortable, like a child again. And you’re honest, you don’t play games.”

“Not because I’m pretty?” She teased

He grinned and looked at her face in assessment, “Are you? I hadn’t noticed.”

She punched his leg lightly and he chuckled.

“It plays a role,” he admitted, “but not a big one. There’s a lot of very beautiful girls in the world. But you’re you. No one else is Sarah Sharp.”

“I don’t like that name,” she exclaimed, “Thomas!”

“Sasha Harrp is nicer, you’re right.” He remembered her ambitions to run away and become the harpist (or harpoon, as she had called it back then) of a travelling band. “The boys on the farm call you Sarah.”

“Most people do these days.”

They were getting closer to each other sentence by sentence.

“…Sasha…” he let the name ring in the air and smiled at his lap again.

She felt a shift in the air and the accumulation of an exciting tension reach some crescendo. Something like a sweat breaking made its way over her body in an instant and she pushed her head forward in pleasure. She swayed her head, rubbing her nose up against his.

With a silky wetness he pushed his lips into hers, pinning her head back against the tree. It was a cushiony wet tangle of pleasure and exploration. Her whole body was consumed by a weightless tingling feeling that diffused the pulsing headache she had been trying to ignore. She felt herself slumping down the tree trunk as every muscle in her body gave up hope of tension. His hand had been on her neck and now her face fell into it and she gasped for breath and time to process what had just happened.

“Sorry…” he said with a breathy smile. Then with concern, “are you alright, Sash?”

“uummmhhmmm…” she slumped away from the tree trunk and lay down in the leaves to gain some breathing space. Her back arched over a large root and her head hung upside-down away from him. “Wow-ee.” She said and laughed from the belly.

Her skirt had ridden up exposing one leg right up to the thigh. Tom let himself look, with a cheeky smile on his face. He followed the midline of her body with his nose until he was face to face with her again. He was smiling playfully and kindly, but her expression was dead serious.

“Tom that was incredible.” She said with suspicion.

“I agree,” he grinned and nuzzled his face against her collar and neck.

His hands supported his weight either side of her shoulders and his body hung over her like the canape of the forest. She adjusted her position to look back up at him comfortably. She didn’t like this. She felt under pressure all of a sudden, as if he were a predator. She became keenly aware that she did not know who he was since he came home, and that they were all alone in the woods. She was looking past him and around him for something she might use as a distraction from the situation.

Unaware, he was nuzzling his face into her neck and shoulder like it was a soft and familiar bed. He started to put pressure on her skin with his lips. Exhaling loudly, he let his hands wonder over her upper chest towards her head. With a little quiver, his fingers found their way behind her ear.

She began to panic. Breathing quickly between each word she said, “Oh no, Tom, stop it.”

Instantly he stopped kissing her and pulled up and away.

“What’s wrong?” He asked softly.

She shook her head and pushed his shoulder. He stiffly resisted for a moment before realising she felt threatened and gently following her instructions. Hiding his amusement, he slowly toppled over onto his side. She took a few long deep breaths and he watched her chest rise and fall patiently.

“Sasha?” he asked after a while.

“I don’t know why,” She started to explain, “it’s confusing.”

“No, no,” he smiled, “It makes sense. I maybe got too excited.”

“Not at all,” she exclaimed, “I like it, it’s just, well it’s strange.” She turned to face him, “We don’t really know each other anymore, do we?”

He thought for a moment, “I suppose not in some ways, but incredibly well in others.”

“I suppose.”

“It’s not what you thought back in the field.” Tom reminded her with a playful elbow.

She laughed and moaned in the pleasurable memory of the hot sun and handsome knight in shining armour.

“You didn’t make it very easy on me to get you home.” Tom commented

She glared at him, “you still haven’t got me home.”

“Point taken.”

“Was it really difficult?” She ventured.

He pushed her face away with his hand. “Stop fishing for complements, you’ve got an ego on you, that’s for sure! Some things haven’t changed at all.”

She waited silently.

“Yes, it was difficult,” he admitted. “But I didn’t want to take advantage of you… or do anything you might regret… or… sort of… dislike me for later,” he delivered with a genuine look of seriousness. “You can’t go around putting men in positions like that.” He added, only half joking.

“I was delusional.” She sniffed.

“When are you not delusional?” He teased.

Thought struck them both with silence. The spring gurgled like a turning idea and the creak of the tress trunks could be heard through the quiet lull in conversation.

“You didn’t do anything. You just stood there.” Sasha said at last.

“I wanted to respect you.”

“And you never replied to any of my letters.” She ignored him “I kept sending them. Did you read them?”

“I read all of them,” he replied obediently, “I still have most of them.”

“Why didn’t you write back?”

He could detect the emotion in her voice and the old, buried guilt resurfaced to the front of his skull with a sweat breaking intensity. “Life was too different.” He said finally, “I had nothing to tell you, nothing to say back. It was all out of context. And Sasha, I could barely write, I was only ten or eleven.”

“Lot’s of excuses there.” She crossed her arms

He smiled, “You’re not actually angry about it. You’re faking. You always cross your arms when you’re faking.”

“No, I don’t!” She exclaimed. And then she giggled into her hand. “I’ve buried the pain too deep down inside me. I can’t possibly feel it now.”

“What are you mad about then, or are you trying to distract me?” he grinned at her pretty eyes.

“You’re flirting with me!” she called out loudly to the woods.

He laughed, “You’re afraid that I don’t know you, or you don’t know me anymore. Or something like that?”

She nodded, “I don’t know if I can trust you with my body like that.”

“That’s not how you felt earlier.” He pointed out with a self-indulgent smile, knowing full well it was completely the wrong thing to say.

She pushed his face away now with a scowl.

“Hey!” he laughed.

He could have completely taken her there and then, in the grass. He could have done anything with her. She even tempted him with it. But he hadn’t. He did the noble thing to do, the responsible thing, the actually caring and respectful thing. So, what was she afraid of? He wasn’t pushing her into anything, he was doing everything in the kindest and most perfect way.

She rolled herself up and swung her leg over him all of a sudden. She suspended herself over him in an animal-like position. She grinned.

“You’re, um,” He couldn’t help smiling as he took in the scene, “You’re sending me mixed messages here.”

“I can trust you, can’t I.” She exclaimed joyfully.

“I hope so,” he muttered back with an air of confusion.

She clasped his cheeks in her hands and sunk her lips into his. She found he favoured kissing her bottom lip. He played with it, sometimes resting gently, or pulling or pushing, or some complex combination. Something in the rhythm of his movements in such a precise way brought a tired heat across her waist and legs. Her eyes began to close, and respiration became heavy.

He kissed her cheeks softly to let her breath. His hands rested on her waist, easing her body down towards his. Following his gentle directions, she brought her behind to rest innocently on his belly. She felt somewhat relieved. Though his hands remained on her waist and squeezed it, very gently, in their large palms.

His hands felt like warm water with a sentient desire. Their hesitancy made her moan in anticipation. But of what she still could not picture. He likely had a very clear image of where they were going. She did not. It was skewed heavily by all the things people had said, in private, intimate description or public denouncement. She had never felt such an all consuming bodily feeling. It was like walking in wet mud without shoes, or stepping from a hot bath, to a cold one and back to a hot one again.

Her head had come to rest now, and her chest was lent against his face. His kisses were exploring where her breasts came together. And she was gently sighing like a breeze. It was the nice kind of ticklish. She just wanted more, but she couldn’t handle it. She rolled her body away again.